


The Things They Left Behind

by Zoelily



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Castiel, Bullying, Child Abuse, DCBB, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2016, Genderfluid Castiel, Homophobic Language, M/M, Musician Dean, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Religious Fanaticism, Violence, dcbb2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8539786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoelily/pseuds/Zoelily
Summary: Cas’ unexplained disappearance has haunted Dean since High School.  Their shared childhood of playground fairy tales, river rope swings, and confession filled first love, was idyllic until that fateful night when they were fifteen.  What followed were three of the worst years of Dean’s life.When the boys unexpectedly cross paths again in University, it takes some harrowing trips down memory lane for Dean to learn the truth of Cas’ past.  Even with a shared love of art and music, a queer social group, and a bit of a push from a bossy redhead, Dean and Cas have a lot to work through to find the peace they once had.  What they do have, no matter what, is each other.





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> When I decided to write my first DCBB, I had this little idea. It morphed and changed and got bigger...then it actually had to get smaller due to time constraints, and in the end, it became this somewhat angsty, but still marginally fluffy College AU. For the most part, I'm pretty proud of it. 
> 
> This story would not exist at all without the endless cheerleading and tireless beta reading of my dear friend, [RachellaDeville](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelladeville/pseuds/rachelladeville). It would also have many more errors if not for the best editor ever, [MoniJune](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MoniJune/pseuds/MoniJune). 
> 
> The biggest thanks and kudos need to go to the amazingly talented Jenn who jumped in as a pinch hitter and created the incredible art you'll see in this story. Please go give her some love. She was a literal joy to work with. <3 Here is a link to the Tumblr art post for this story [peanutbutterthenjelly](http://peanutbutterthenjelly.tumblr.com/post/153391579137)
> 
> I would like to add that I have never been to Wichita State University. Although I tried to be as accurate as possible with the resources I had, I had to use my imagination to some degree. If you're familiar with the WSU campus and surrounding area and you notice any glaring errors, please let me know.
> 
> Now onto the story. Comments and kudos appreciated, of course :)

[ ](http://s521.photobucket.com/user/paula2809/media/Banner.png.html)

Dean stuffed the final old t-shirt from his duffel bag into the dresser drawer, shoving the last inch of worn cotton down with his fingertips and giving the old, well-used drawer handle a good solid push to get it closed. His new dorm room was tiny with limited space for his things, but it was his. No roommate, no little brother, no parents, no oppression, just his own space to be himself. If he had to wear a few wrinkled shirts, he could live with that.

He hadn’t really brought that much from home, anyway. Lawrence was only a few hours away. He knew his mom would keep his room at home just as he left it for when he visited. She was just that kind of mom. The apple-pie-baking, baseball-game-watching, friends-for-dinner-inviting, little-too-overbearing, kind of mom. He’d miss her, except for maybe the last part. He’d miss his dad too, or at least some of the “guy” things they did together – working on his car, watching the games on TV. His dad’s antiquated ideas of masculinity annoyed him to no end (Part of the oppression he was trying to escape, he supposed.), but he still enjoyed the time spent with the man. Mostly he’d miss Sam. Little brothers were a pain in the ass, but it was difficult to imagine life without Sam around asking questions and looking up to him in the way only little brothers can.

As much as he would miss his family, this little 12- by 9-foot room was destined to be his sanctuary for the next eight months while he navigated his first year of college at WSU. Finally, he could put his slightly troubled past behind him, set aside the expectations of his family, and just be Dean Winchester, whoever that turned out to be.

With his limited belongings unpacked, Dean’s thoughts turned to the rest of his day. He knew there was something called Welcomefest, which included events planned for freshmen for the first couple of weeks, as well as Clash of the Colleges, which mostly just sounded like a giant competitive party. He assumed the College of Fine Arts, of which he was now a student, was expected to participate, so he would find out soon enough what exactly that meant.

He had promised his high school best friend, Charlie, that he’d check out the Campus Clubs fair that afternoon. Charlie was manning the booth for the Spectrum social discussion group, and Dean was interested in what that was all about. Trust Charlie to get involved in a cause before classes even started.

Dean yanked on the closet door, trying to get it to slide with very little luck. It moved slightly, and then bounced back into its original position as if something were blocking it. He bent down to check what was jamming the track. Finding nothing, he gave it another good shove and the rollers popped out of the track completely, leaving Dean standing there with a closet door in his hands. He propped the door against the wall and retrieved the flannel he’d gone to get in the first place, shoving his arms into it and smoothing it down over his black Zep shirt. He went to check his reflection in the mirror above the sink in his tiny bathroom. Good enough. He grabbed his wallet and keys and flicked off the overhead light. He’d have to check at the front desk on his way down to the university commons about who to call for room maintenance.

Wichita State University was overwhelming. Dean had been impressed when he visited with his parents in the spring during their orientation tour. There were beautiful old brick buildings interspersed with modern, architecturally stunning structures that gave the campus a diverse feel. The place was huge, with so many winding paths and acres of green space, beautifully manicured and lovingly landscaped, many interesting art installations and spaces for studying and gathering. He could imagine lounging outside in the sunshine with his guitar, soaking up the university atmosphere. He’d been so anxious to get that chapter of his life started.

As he stood outside Shocker Hall, his home away from home for the next eight months, Dean sighed contentedly. Students milled about, heading to various destinations on campus, most to the Welcomefest events just as he was. He joined the growing crowds, taking their time walking and enjoying the late morning sunshine. Dean was glad he’d put on his aviators and skipped grabbing a jacket. It was already promising to be a hot, late-summer Midwestern day.

It was easy to spot the activity from the multi-coloured awnings and homemade signs. Random music blasted from several unknown sources. Students roamed between displays carrying backpacks and environmentally friendly paper bags of swag from various campus clubs and organizations advertising their services and looking for members. There were girls in black and yellow cheerleading uniforms, a row of Greek tables where all the fraternity and sorority information was available, and WuShock, the sports teams’ mascot, was randomly pulling people into bone-crushing hugs.

Dean felt his cell vibrate in his back pocket. Figuring it must be Charlie wondering where he was, he grabbed it and swiped to see his latest text. After the series of check-ins from his mom and questions from Sam, there was, indeed, one from Charlie.

 **From CB** : _You standing me up or what, Winchester?_

Dean took in the scene around him, realizing he had absolutely no idea where to even start looking for his best friend.

 **To CB** : _Where the hell are u? This place is a zoo._

 **From CB:** _Just look for the rainbows, dummy! <3_

Ah, so Spectrum was an LGBTQ group. Dean wasn’t sure why he didn’t jump to that conclusion sooner. Charlie had been out as long as he’d known her, but their high school hadn’t had any kind of GSA, so it made sense she would gravitate to the first available queer-friendly resource. Charlie would be a huge asset to a group like that on campus. He grabbed his phone and tapped his reply.

 **To CB:** _OMW_

Dean pushed his way through the rowdy sports and Greek crowd to the slightly less rambunctious tables farther back. He could spot signs for show choir, debate, newspaper, and various special interest social groups. The rainbow decorations caught his eye just before the flash of flaming red hair that he’d seen almost every day since Charlie dive-bombed into his life halfway through his freshman year of high school. They’d been practically inseparable ever since.

Dean made his way over, and while Charlie still had her back to him, he wrapped his arms around his tiny friend. He kissed her on the top of her head as she squealed and spun in his arms.

“Asshole! You scared the crap outta me,” she squeaked with a solid punch to his arm.

“Hey, hey. No violence.”

With the playfulness over, Dean pulled Charlie into a proper hug and his anxiety at the newness surrounding him melted away. She always had that effect on him.

“Okay, Dean. Need to breathe.”

Dean pulled back reluctantly and ruffled his best friend’s mess of bright hair. “When did you get here?”

“Yesterday. Hailey dropped me off early. She wanted to get back before the younger kids got home from summer camp, and I wanted to check in and find out what the Diversity and Inclusion Office needed volunteers for today. What about you?”

“Just this morning.” Dean thought back to his mom’s tearful stressing and his dad’s listing all the teams he should be looking into. “Took a while to convince my parents I could survive without them, but they finally left.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. She knew Dean’s parents well enough to know he wasn’t exaggerating. There were advantages to living in a foster home sometimes. “You get unpacked?”

“Yeah. Didn’t bring much really. New start and all.”

“So, the new and improved Dean Winchester. You’re finally going through with this?”

“Not new and improved. More like, real and finally honest with himself. Yeah, it’s time, Charlie.”

Charlie pulled him back into another hug, this one tighter. “I’m on your side, Dean. Whatever you need.”

Once they parted, Dean finally glanced around at the table his friend was manning. “So what’s with this Spectrum thing? I have a feeling I should probably find out, especially if you’re involved.”

“It’s a weekly discussion group for LGBTQ students and their allies. For support and social opportunities on campus.”

Dean took a moment to take that in, while giving the impression of looking over the information pamphlets and posters of happy queer couples. Could that be him? Could he do this? He’d buried that integral part of himself for so many years now, ever since…

“So, what do I do?”

“I have a signup page.” She handed him a clipboard with a list of email addresses. “Just put your email on here and the information about the first meeting gets sent out to you. You can do this. I’ll be there, Dean.”

Dean took the clipboard and tried not to let his nerves get the best of him as he scribbled his brand spanking new WSU email at the bottom of the list. He was surprised to see the page was almost three quarters full. As he was handing the clipboard back to Charlie, an email caught his eye towards the top of the list and he froze. He hadn’t seen or heard that name in over three years. **castiel.novak@wichita.edu**

Dean stumbled backwards into the folding table and dropped the clipboard on the ground in front of him. He knew there were people around, but their words weren’t registering. There were just mouths moving and no sound. All he could feel was the air around him closing in. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t swallow. The air was dry, it was too warm; he was sweating. He slid to the ground. He could hear a tinny voice from a distance calling his name and he tried to latch onto it, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. It seemed like hours or maybe just seconds. He didn’t know. His breath was too fast. Then he could hear counting. He focused on the numbers. He could do that. 1..2..3…breathe. 4...5…6…breathe. Slowly, things started to come back into focus. Charlie was gripping his shoulders and counting with him, trying to even out his breathing.

“Dean, are you with me?”

Charlie’s face looked terrified. He’d done that. He’d scared her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full blown panic attack. He looked into her eyes and tried to reassure his friend.

“Yeah, m’good.”

“You don’t look so good, Winchester.”

Someone passed Charlie a glass of water, which she held to Dean’s lips. He sipped slowly, coughing a little on the cool liquid as it slid down his raw throat. He pushed the rest of the water away and slowly tried to stand. He got up on two feet, even if he was a little unsteady. Charlie took his hand and led him away from the crowds to a bench in the shade a few feet away.

“You wanna tell me what that was about? I’ve seen you have a few little attacks over the last couple of years, but nothing like that.”

Dean took a deep breath for the first time in several minutes. “Cas’ name was on that list.”

Charlie’s eyes went wide. “Wait. _The_ Cas? Cas is here?”

“Yes. _The_ Cas.”

Charlie took Dean’s hand in hers, obviously not knowing exactly what her friend needed but wanting to be supportive all the same. She knew the backstory. Charlie had moved to Lawrence just in time to help Dean through the aftermath of Cas’ disappearance. He had survived it. He wasn’t the same messed up person he was three years ago. He was stronger, and Charlie had been a big part of that. But, all it had taken was a recognizable name on a sheet of lined paper to have him collapsing in on himself, bulldozing him back into his past whether he wanted it or not; projecting a long-buried thought from the depths of his subconscious to the forefront of his mind.  
  
“What the fuck had happened to Cas?”  
  
Seeking solitude, Dean headed back to his room. As he walked, it was impossible to keep out the memories. Thoughts of the day he’d met Cas occupied his mind as he walked. He remembered the scorching summer heat, his sweaty hair plastered under his ball cap, the itchy mosquito bites that peppered his legs and the sweet relief of a breeze hitting his face as he pumped his scrawny legs between the rusty metal chains of the swing he occupied at their local park. His mother, though kind and loving, was nothing if not insistent. So, when she’d said he couldn’t go to the pool because Sammy was sick and he was too young to go alone, there was no use in arguing. He’d opted for the playground over sitting indoors. School would start up again soon enough and keep him locked inside all day. There was a limited amount of time to be outside enjoying summer, and he was determined to make the most of it.  
  
Tiring of the repetition of the swing, Dean wandered through the dusty playground to the intricate pile of old worn tires that served as a climbing apparatus. Dean was still skinny enough that he could squeeze through the holes in the bottom tires and sit inside the structure. On a scorching day like this one, they stunk like burnt rubber, but they provided some shade from the hot sun.

Getting down on his knees to poke his arms through the hole in the rubber, and then dropping to his belly in the dirt to shimmy his shoulders and torso the rest of the way, Dean managed to wiggle through the bottom tire, dragging his sneakered feet behind him. His mom would complain about the grass and dirt stains on his t-shirt and shorts again, but he was used to that. Moms tended to complain about most things. It was what they did.

It wasn’t until he had righted himself and brushed off the worst of the dust and grime that he noticed blue eyes watching him shyly from under a mop of dark hair.

“Hi. I’m Dean Winchester. I didn’t know anyone else was here.”

The other boy looked up slowly and tilted his head to the side as if he were surprised Dean had spoken to him. He was dressed in a short-sleeved, button down shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals, and in his lap was a pile of what appeared to be action figures. Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen him around before, but he didn’t know everyone in the neighbourhood. The new boy still hadn’t said anything. Maybe he couldn’t talk.

[](http://s521.photobucket.com/user/paula2809/media/Image1.jpeg.html)

“What’s your name?” Dean tried again, realizing he hadn’t actually asked a question before.

“Castiel. Castiel Novak.”

“That’s a funny name. Are you new?”

Castiel scrunched his eyes and looked down at the toys in his lap. Dean couldn’t tell if he was mad or just thinking. He didn’t look up when he spoke softly.

“My name isn’t funny. It’s the name of an angel. My mom told me I was named for a worthy seraph. Am I new at what?”

“What’s a seraph?

Castiel must’ve decided Dean was ok to talk to because he lifted his head again and spoke to Dean directly this time, his voice a little louder as if he were more sure of himself.

“A seraph is a soldier – like this one,” said the boy, holding up a green plastic army man, “but an angel.”

Dean recognised the toy; he had a bunch just like it at home. They were everywhere; under his bed, stuck in the couch cushions and even jammed into the ashtray of his Dad’s old Impala. The ones in the car were Sammy’s fault, but he was pretty sure his Dad blamed him. Regardless, if Castiel was named after the army dudes, that was pretty cool.

“I like your name. I’m named after my grandma. Pretty boring. So I was wondering if you were new here – to this part of Lawrence? I haven’t seen you here before.”

Castiel nodded. “Then yes, I’m new. My brother, sister and I just came to live with my uncle. This is the first time I’ve gone anywhere by myself.”

Dean thought his new friend looked kinda sad. Maybe he was just lonely. Dean didn’t know what it was like to be new, but it must be hard.

“I have a brother too. His name is Sam. He’s six. I like playing with him, but he can still be a baby sometimes”

Cas nodded. “My brother’s name is Gabriel. He’s 16. He doesn’t like to be around much anymore though. My sister is Anna. She’s 13. She’s very pretty. Mostly she just stays in her room and reads.”

“Don’t they ever play with you?”

“Anna does sometimes, but not as much as before. Gabriel hates my uncle so he tries hard not to be home. Sometimes he takes me out for ice cream or candy, but my uncle doesn’t like it so he has to pretend we’re going somewhere else.”

Dean thought that sounded very lonely indeed. Dean had his friends, and he had Sammy. Castiel didn’t have anyone to play with at all.

“Why do you have to live with your mean uncle? Where are your mom and dad?”

Castiel’s head dropped again, and his eyes got all watery like he was about to cry.

“They died. Their car crashed in a storm. Now they’re angels.”

Dean sighed, feeling the sadness wash over him. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like if his mom and dad died. Sometimes they made him mad, but they loved him and Sammy and he loved them so much. He reached out and touched Castiel’s arm, hoping to help his new friend not feel so sad.

“My mom says that angels are watching over us. Maybe your mom and dad are watching over you?”

Castiel’s lips tilted into the smallest of smiles. “I think they are.”

Dean grinned. He looked down at the pile in Castiel’s lap. “Can we play with your toys?”

“Of course,” Castiel replied. He pushed the assortment onto the ground between them. Dean picked through and found that there were two more of the green army men, as well as a Barbie, two sparkly ponies, the pink power ranger, a couple of teenage mutant ninja turtles, batman and Spiderman action figures, Yoda and a transformer. Dean picked up one of the ponies and eyed it suspiciously.

“Isn’t this a girl toy?”

Castiel just shrugged. “Why?”

Dean thought about it for a moment but he really didn’t have an answer, so he just plopped it back down in the pile with the others.

The afternoon went quickly playing with his new friend. Dean and Castiel invented stories involving all of the characters in Castiel’s jumbled assortment. They combed the playground for rocks and sticks they could imagine into weapons or glorious fantasy lands. They were completely immersed in their game of make believe and didn’t hear the footsteps approaching or the soft voice calling Castiel’s name.

It was Dean who first noticed the teenaged girl with the mane of pretty long red hair poke her head through one of the upper tires. Castiel turned to see what had caught his new friend’s attention and quickly jumped to his feet, brushing the dirt and grass from his clothes.

“Anna!”

“Castiel. Uncle Zachariah is wondering where you’ve gotten to. He’s not happy. Best come now.”

Dean thought Castiel’s uncle must be very mean because Castiel looked terrified while he quickly picked up the toys and stuffed them into a small blue backpack that up until now Dean hadn’t even noticed tucked into a corner of the climbing structure. Castiel hurried as he wiggled his small body through one of the bottom tires and Dean quickly followed. Before his new friend disappeared after his sister, Dean grabbed his arm.

“Do you think we could play again sometime? I come to the park a lot. Sometimes I bring my mom and my brother too.”

Castiel glanced over at Anna as if he were unsure if it were a good idea. She nodded her head, just the tiniest little bit. Cas turned back to Dean. “Yes. I’ll come back another day. I like having a friend.”

Dean smiled at the memory even now. He pushed through the door and back into the private space of his dorm room, his mind still swimming with memories. Meeting Cas at the park that day had only been the beginning. Here he was, years later, still enduring a maelstrom of churning emotions and chaotic thoughts, all of which centered around the same question that he’d worked so hard to live without an answer to.  
  
“What the fuck had happened to Cas?”  
 


	2. Wishful Thinking

[ ](http://s521.photobucket.com/user/paula2809/media/b8f3adb0-592d-4427-bc32-9446254bfc29.png.html)

 Cas glanced around the grassy commons bustling with students, amazed at how they all appeared to be moving with so much purpose. He spotted an empty bench and slowly moved towards it while attempting to juggle his too-hot latte, his backpack, his smartphone, and his notebook.  Why did it appear he was the only student who was so overwhelmed?  Everyone seemed so confident in their stride and their animated conversations with their cliques of friends.  Did they just hide it well or was he really that different?  
  
Thankful to finally be able to put down the paper cup that was burning his fingers, Cas rubbed his hands down his skinny jeans to alleviate some of the burn and turned his attention to his worn notebook, opening it to his most recent list.  
  
August 27 - Things to do Today  
~~buy a real latte~~  
~~pick up schedule and supply list~~  
purchase supplies and books  
locate classes  
read instructions for smartphone  
call Gabriel  
  
Mindful not to dislodge the loose papers jammed under the wire coil at the back of the book, Cas flipped back to the previous day’s list with a sense of accomplishment.   
  
_August 26 – Things to do Today_  
~~locate residence assignment~~  
~~open account at campus bank and deposit student loan check~~  
~~get shuttle schedule~~  
~~go shopping at Towne East Mall for real clothes~~  
~~buy a smartphone and a laptop~~  
~~go to Walmart for personal items~~  
~~attend Campus Clubs Fair~~  
~~sign up for some clubs to make friends~~  
~~locate the dining hall~~  
call Gabriel  
  
Cas felt guilty that he hadn’t called his brother yet, but he promised himself he would make learning to use his phone a priority later that day so he could let Gabriel know he was settling in okay.  Before he could do that though, he had several other items to cross off today’s list.   
  
Taking a tentative sip of his latte, Cas pushed his new beanie up higher on his forehead so it wasn’t in his eyes and pulled his course schedule out of his notebook.  Cas was beyond excited for his classes.  For as far back as he could remember, all he’d wanted to do was draw and paint.  Some of his earliest memories of his mother were images of her seated at an easel, creating beautiful landscapes while he curled up beside her with pencils or a paint set of his own, attempting to mimic her talent.  He was certainly gifted in his own right, but after his parents passed, his uncle had no use for something as impractical as art.  Cas was forbidden from drawing and painting.  It was only now that he was eighteen and no longer under his uncle’s control that Cas was attempting to regain so many things that had been lost to him.  
  
For the first time in his life, Cas would own his own real art supplies.  The thought was as overwhelming as the fact that he was currently drinking his first ever latte, in his first pair of jeans, staring at his first smartphone, and wearing his first beanie.  Right now his eyes were even rimmed with black eyeliner. It was a mark of his independence that he didn’t have to steal it from his sister. Or confine its use to a brief experimentation behind the locked door of a bathroom only to wash it off minutes later.  Cas could feel the tears welling as he was overcome by the changes.  It was so much in such a short time.  
  
Realizing that his newly applied makeup would soon be running down his cheeks, Cas shook his head to clear it and concentrated again on his schedule and attached syllabus, checking the supply list for what he need to purchase.  He made a few mental calculations, checking to make sure he was still within his budget for books and supplies, and tucked the notebook, less the loose papers, into his backpack.  He pulled out his campus map so he could locate the bookstore.  
  
It was a short walk across campus to the bookstore in the Rhatigan Student Center.  Cas soon realized he’d been there the day before when he’d opened his account at the campus bank and it really wasn’t that far from his residence at Shocker Hall.  He hoped it wouldn’t take too long to get used to where everything was.  Coming from a tiny private high school, WSU seemed like a small city.  
  
The staff at the bookstore were incredibly helpful, and before long Cas had everything from the supply and book list crammed into his backpack with the overflow balanced in his arms. Thankfully, he’d already finished his latte.  He carefully made his way back to the residence hall.  The last thing he wanted to do was drop anything.  He was proud of his new things and the thought of ruining anything, especially the first day, was detestable.  
  
Later that day, after putting his meager new belongings in their proper places, Cas took the time to really look around what would be his home for the next eight months.  He took in the small bed, nightstand, desk, lamp, closet, and dresser.  For the first time, he was living alone.  He could make his own choices.  No one would be telling him what he couldn’t wear, or eat, or do, or say.  Cas sat stiffly on the edge of his freshly made twin bed and considered exactly what that meant.  First he’d lived by his uncle’s rules, then Crowley’s, then the school’s.  For the past three days he’d dutifully written his lists and carefully fulfilled and crossed off each item, but other than choosing his clothes, he hadn’t given much thought to anything beyond the necessities.   
  
Actually, that wasn’t entirely true, he’d signed up for that Spectrum social discussion group.  He’d done it on a whim, and he’d almost gone back to scribble his email off the list, but the girl, Charlie, had been so nice he hadn’t wanted to let her down.  He’d promised himself he’d be honest with himself here and try to work through his past, and he knew that group was a perfect first step.  The only other group he’d signed up for was a book club.  He was excited for that too.  He sighed softly and laid back on the hard foam mattress, stretching his arms above his head.  Maybe he was thinking for himself more than he’d given himself credit for.  He’d led such a sheltered life.  He had to start somewhere, right?   
  
Cas rolled off the bed and grabbed his smartphone and the instruction manual.  He’d never used a cell phone of any kind before, but he’d used a tablet and he assumed they were similar.  It didn’t take long for him to work out the basics and program Gabriel and Anna, his only two contacts, into his folder.  He also set up his WSU email and noticed he had a few new messages.   
  
The first email was his meal plan balance, which he checked and then deleted.  He had two messages from professors teaching a couple of his classes that started on Monday.  Both had reading lists attached.  He saved those for later.  He had one last email from the Diversity and Inclusion Office.  He opened that one to find out that the first meeting of the Spectrum social discussion group was the following evening at 7 p.m.  Some kind of meet and greet.   
  
Anxiety bubbled in Cas’ gut.  It was one thing to sign up for a group that felt like a good idea in his head, but the reality of it was something else entirely.  He’d led his whole life being physically and emotionally shoved away from his inner self, sometimes with force and pain, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to battle it head on.  He closed his email and set his phone aside, deciding to save his call to Gabriel until later.  He grabbed an oversized hoodie, his beanie, his new sketchpad, and left his little dorm room to find a place to escape into the sound of pencil scratches on stiff paper.  
  
Cas wandered aimlessly around campus with no particular destination in mind.  He wasn’t familiar enough yet with his surroundings, so he chose to walk until he found a place that suited his needs.  He craved a distraction, and he’d know it when he found it.  Near the art gallery he came across a grove of perfectly planted flowers and shrubs, and right in the centre was a huge bronze millipede.  Cas had never seen such a whimsical thing – so out of place, yet so flawlessly wonderful right there, surrounded by such busy chaos.  He just had to draw her.  


[](http://s521.photobucket.com/user/paula2809/media/Millie.jpg.html)

  
The grass was slightly damp.  There hadn’t been any rain so there must’ve been an underground sprinkler system at work keeping the lawn lush and green.  Cas didn’t care.  He lowered himself down to sit and bent his knees up in front of him.  He stretched his sweatshirt over his kneecaps and balanced his new sketchpad on the shelf he’d created, flipping to the first crisp page.  Within moments, he was lost in the world coming to life at the tip of his pencil.  
  
Cas was so lost in his art that he didn’t realize the sun was disappearing behind the bronze sculpture until he felt the slight chill in the air and the hunger pangs that reminded him that he still hadn’t located the dining hall.  Comparing his work with the beautiful monument in front of him, he nodded, satisfied with his creation.  He wasn’t always happy with his work, but he was pleased with this.  The distraction had also done as he’d intended it to do and calmed him.  Lists were his way of being in control of his own life.  Art was his way of keeping himself grounded.  He had certainly spent enough years in turmoil to be aware of his own coping mechanisms.  
  
Closing his sketchpad and brushing any excess grass from his clothes, Cas stood to make his way back to his dorm room, hoping he would come across the dining hall along the way.  He wasn’t sure how far he’d actually wandered, but he didn’t think it was terribly far.   
  
Needing to make sure he was heading in the right direction, he looked around to get his bearings.  As he glanced to the left of the museum looking for a familiar landmark, he froze.  It had been three years since he’d been ripped away from his life in Lawrence, but he would know that face anywhere.  Walking down the path about one hundred feet away was Dean Winchester.  Most of Cas’ childhood and teen years were something he would sooner forget, but Dean was the one bright light in all that chaos – the one person he would remember no matter what.  
  
Seeing Dean was like pulling the bottom can out of a pyramid display.  The memories toppled over each other and worked to bury him.  For some reason, the one that always hit him hardest was that of Dean’s home.  From the first moment he’d ever walked in there, he’d known he never wanted to leave.  
  
Even two years after having met Dean at the park, he still found himself nervous as he approached the Winchesters’ front door.  Their family was so perfectly wonderful that it intimidated him.  He was certain that one day they’d find out about the wrongness inside of him and expel him from their lives, maybe even keep him from seeing Dean. He’d always come to their home expecting the worst, but it never came.

This time, like all others, he’d knocked tentatively on the door, and it was answered by Dean’s mom, Mary, and her gracious smile.  
  
“Hello, Castiel.”  
  
“Hello, Mrs. Winchester.”  
  
“Come on in, sweetheart.  Dean is upstairs in his room.”  
  
Cas toed off his loafers and set them neatly side by side on the mat beside the door and hung the ugly tan coat his uncle insisted he wear on the coat tree.  He stepped onto the carpet in the Winchesters’ hallway and wiggled his toes as he always did before he made his way upstairs.  He loved the feel of the soft plush under his socked feet.  It was a small comfort in comparison to the hard, dark wood on every floor of his uncle’s house.  He knew no matter how long he lived there, he’d never think of it as home.  
  
Dean’s mom handed him a foil-covered plate just as he got to the bottom of the stairs.  “I made some cookies.  You can take them up with you.”  
  
“Thank you, Mrs. Winchester.  They smell delicious.”  
  
“Oh, Castiel.  I wish you’d call me Mary.”  
  
Cas looked up at Dean’s mom.  She was so beautiful.  His mom had been beautiful too.  He missed her so much sometimes it made him physically ache.   
  
“Okay, Mrs. Win….Mary.  I promise I’ll try to remember.”  
  
Cas smiled sincerely at Mary and thanked her again for the cookies before climbing up the stairs to see what Dean was up to.  
  
The door to Dean’s room was open a few inches. Cas peeked through the small space to see his best friend sitting crossed legged on the bed with his guitar in his lap.  Dean must’ve been fully focused on his task because he’d yet to notice Cas’ presence. With his bottom lip firmly between his teeth in concentration, Dean stared intently at the guitar as the fingers on his right hand seemed to effortlessly pick from string to string while the fingers from his left hand quickly changed chords. Cas was mesmerised at how much talent his friend had, and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to draw him.  Cas wondered if he could do justice to the beauty of Dean in that moment, and he shook his head.  
  
Dean must’ve smelled the cookies because he chose that instant to look up.  
  
“Hey, Cas.  Smells like my mom was baking.”  
  
Cas moved into the room and set the plate down on Dean’s desk.  “What were you playing?”  
  
Dean set the guitar on the bed and got up to unwrap the cookies.  Stuffing a whole one in his mouth and moaning around melting chocolate and peanut butter, he tried to answer Cas.  
  
“Is sumfin I wofe.”  
  
“Excuse me?” Cas asked, handing Dean the half-full bottle of water that was sitting on the worn oak nightstand.  
  
Dean took a good sized swallow to wash down the cookie before trying again.  “Sorry.  It’s something I wrote.  The song.  I’ve been working on it for a while, but I didn’t want to play it for anyone until I got it perfect.”  
  
Cas picked up Dean’s guitar and handed it back to him.  “Will you play it for me?”  
  
Dean nodded and climbed one-handed back onto the bed, careful not to knock his prized possession against anything in the process.  Cas followed and sat across from him, a position they’d been in so many times while they did homework, listened to music, talked about school or all of those other mundane or not so mundane things 12-year-old boys discuss.  Cas watched Dean fiddle with the knobs, tilting his head as he strummed and listened until he was satisfied the sound was just right.  Then Dean looked at Cas and started to play.   
  
Cas would never tire of listening to Dean’s music.  There was just something so inherently Dean about the way could communicate through his guitar.  Cas closed his eyes and lost himself in the melody, not opening them again until the vibration of the last note finally died away.  
  
Dean’s eyes flickered open to meet Cas’.  Neither spoke immediately.  They didn’t have the kind of friendship that always needed to be filled with unnecessary words.  Some of the kids at school called them weird, but they just connected in that way.  Often they just enjoyed each other’s company, sharing the same space because it made them both feel like they fulfilled something the other needed.  It had been that way for them since that first day at the park.  They’d never really talked about it, that’s just how things were between them.  
  
Cas finally broke the silence, reaching over and giving Dean’s hand a squeeze.  He knew it meant something special for Dean to share his music.  His friend would often pick up his guitar and play a well-loved tune, but the intimacy of something he had created himself was something Dean generally kept a little closer.  
  
“Thank you, Dean.”  
  
“I wouldn’t play that for anyone but you, Cas.  You’re the only one who really gets it.  
  
Cas was stunned.  “You think no one gets it?”  
  
Dean shrugged and lifted himself from the bed to tuck his guitar back into its place of honour in the corner of his bedroom.  He sat back on the edge of the bed and lay back, clasping his hands across his middle, staring at the stippled ceiling before continuing.  
  
“I just don’t think they understand how important music is to me.  My friends would think it’s cool that I can play. My parents would think that it’s adorable. Sammy would just want me to teach him. None of them would really get it. They just don’t get me like you do, Cas.”  
  
Cas uncrossed his legs and stretched out beside his best friend, mimicking his position.   
  
“I understand, Dean.  All I want to do is draw and paint like my mother did.  My uncle won’t even let me have any supplies.  He thinks it’s a complete waste of time.  Gabriel barely ever comes by anymore, and Anna just locks herself away.  I rarely ever see her without a book in her hand, and she barely leaves her room except for school and meals.  
  
Dean nods.  “Where did you tell Uncle Z you were going today anyway?”  
  
“The library again,” Cas replied.  “Sometimes I wonder if he ever suspects that’s not where I go, but he never says anything.  
  
“Probably because you’re super smart so he believes you’re there studying all the time.”  
  
“So as long as I keep getting straight A’s, then we get away with it,” Cas replied with a gummy grin.  
  
Dean Just laughed at Cas’ devious smile and grabbed him around the waist to pull him closer into a squishy hug.  Cas adored Dean’s hugs.  They were playful and fun, as well as safe and warm.  No one hugged him anymore except for Dean.   Back then, Cas couldn’t imagine what he’d do if Dean ever stopped.  Now, as he stood frozen, staring at Dean’s face all these years later, the loss of all the hugs he should have had from back then until now was gut wrenching.  Worse than that even, was that Cas could only stand there motionless and watch as Dean walked around the corner and out of sight.


	3. After School Special

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Dean was relieved Charlie had agreed to meet him for supper before the Spectrum meeting.  His anxiety was ramping up, and he needed his friend to help ground him.  Charlie was a balm to his frayed nerves – always the voice of perfect reason, in a weird, snarky, and wonderfully nerdy little package.  
  
There were already three discarded button-down shirts on the unmade bed as Dean rifled through his closet trying to settle on something to wear.  He knew he was being ridiculous.  It was just a group of kids getting together to talk.  Here he was attending a meeting about opening up and being himself, and he was worried about portraying the perfect outer image.  What he needed to do was just dress how he wanted to – how Dean Winchester genuinely wanted to look, not what was expected of him.  With that in mind, and a sense of pride in that small accomplishment, Dean pulled a soft hunter green Henley out of his dresser and pulled it over his head.  He paired it with his favourite worn jeans and black leather jacket and boots, and he was happy with his appearance before he even got to the full-length mirror on his closet door.  The door was still propped at a bit of an awkward angle against the closet frame and the wall, so the angle of the image was a bit distorted, but Dean was still pleased with the result.  He ran his fingers through his short light brown hair once, spiking it up into the style that he liked, grabbed his keys and wallet, and set out to the dining hall to meet Charlie.  
  
The Shocker dining hall was packed as Dean and Charlie elbowed their way through, trying to snag a table.  It soon became obvious that hovering with your tray near a table where the occupants appeared to be finishing up was the only way to secure a space to eat.  It was like circling the food court in the mall at noon on a Saturday.  Dean looked around as they waited, taking in the red brick and metal decor that flowed from the outside of the building, giving the giant room a warm yet modern look.  Round tables and couches filled the space, perfect for not only eating, but meeting with groups of friends and cramming for an exam over a much-needed meal.  
  
When they’d finally snuck into a corner booth and Charlie had wiped up the stickiness from spilled soda with a napkin soaked in water from the bottle she’d grabbed with her food, Dean set down his tray and immediately stuffed half a slice of greasy pepperoni pizza in his mouth.  Charlie glared daggers at him so he grinned widely, giving her his best squirrel impersonation.  
  
“I take personal offense to your lack of table manners, Winchester.”  
  
“This is college.  I hardly think they’re giving extra credit for chewing with your mouth closed,” Dean laughed, grabbing a napkin before melted cheese oozed out of the corners of his mouth and really grossed Charlie out.  He could be an ass sometimes, but he wasn’t a total jerk.  
  
“Hey, you never know.  Those music professors are a pretty uppity bunch.”  
  
“Don’t dis the major, Celeste!”  
  
“Call me that again and I’ll set a virus loose on your computer that will send all your gay porn in individual emails to your TAs instead of your first assignments.”  
  
“You can’t actually do that, Charlie,” Dean insisted, taking a sip of his root beer.  “Can you?”  
  
“Wanna try me?” Charlie challenged, her face not giving anything away.  Charlie was kind of a computer genius, and Dean wouldn’t actually put anything past her.   
  
“Ok, I give.  You are only ever Charlie Bradbury, Dean Winchester’s best and most cherished friend, and, on rare LARP related occasions, Charlene, the honourable Queen of Moondoor.”  
  
Charlie’s face split into a victorious grin.  “Ah, the Force is strong with this one.”  
  
Dean sometimes wondered how he got so lucky to have Charlie in his corner.  She was the most loyal, non-judgmental person he knew, not to mention the fact that she was sweet, funny, and loved all the same geeky things he did, even if he didn’t always admit them to everyone else.  
  
Charlie must’ve seen the serious shadow cross Dean’s face.  She reached over and wrapped her slender fingers around his wrist.  “You nervous about tonight?  You know you don’t have to stand up and announce anything, right?  Your sexuality is your own business unless you choose otherwise.”  
  
“Yeah.  Just, this is new.  Even being in a group of queer kids.  I’ve never done that.”  
  
“Hey, Dean.  They’re not all gonna be gay.  Some of them are gonna be straight allies.  You being there isn’t automatically gonna make you stand out as one of the LGBTQI + + alphabet soup letters.  And you have to remember, no one there will judge you either way. You take this at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.  I know we’ve talked about this, and I know you said you’re ready but it’s not the same as actually coming out and, you know, ‘coming out.’ I’ll be there and whatever you need, you got it, okay?  
  
Dean released the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding and nodded.  Charlie was right.  They had talked about it.  He’d closed off after Cas, and it had taken a long time to get past.  Now was his time to finally be himself, and he was gonna do it, even if it was just baby steps.  The group tonight was a good place to start getting comfortable with the real Dean Winchester.  
  
The Office of Diversity of and Inclusion was located in the Rhatigan Student Center on the second floor.  Dean and Charlie got there early so Charlie could help set up for the group.  The room was spacious and welcoming, tastefully decorated in warm neutral colours, and Dean felt the knot in his shoulders slowly loosening as he helped Charlie make a pot of coffee, fill jugs with drinking water and ice, boil water for tea, and set out cookies.   
  
Dean wandered over to one of the overstuffed couches placed in a circle in the centre of the room.  There was an assortment of mismatched furniture, all obviously well-used, positioned for comfortable conversation.  In the centre were some low tables, covered with pamphlets for various student resources – most with pride logos – a couple of boxes of tissues, and a tired looking spider plant.  Dean couldn’t help reaching over and pouring the dregs of the water from his glass into the pot, hoping to breathe a little life back into the spindly little thing.  
  
He turned as voices carried from the hallway into the room and the space slowly started to fill with students.  Some seemed to be already acquainted, while others just stood around looking nervous and uncomfortable. Dean again found himself feeling thankful for Charlie so he didn’t have to face this alone.  
  
Someone put an iPod into a dock in the corner and music filtered through invisible speakers.  It wasn’t anything Dean recognised, but he liked the feel of it.  Taking away the silence seemed to put people at ease and relaxed the atmosphere into something more social.  Conversation around the room started to flow a little easier and those that came alone moved farther into the room.  Charlie was positioned close to the door leaning against a bookshelf, welcoming students as they came in.  As they entered, Charlie would offer them something to drink and remind them that they were in a safe space. Dean wandered over to his friend and leaned beside her, tilting his head onto her shoulder.  
  
“Good turnout.”  
  
Charlie was almost bouncing on her toes with excitement as she turned towards Dean.  “I know, right?”  
  
Dean thought back to High School.  If they’d had a GSA or some kind of queer social group, Charlie would’ve been in her element.  His friend had never been one to hide in the closet, and she would’ve jumped at the chance to champion something like this.  Watching her now, clearly ready to take Wichita State by storm, he was so incredibly proud of his tiny powerhouse of a friend.  He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.  
  
“What was that for?”  
  
“Just for being you.”  
  
Charlie nudged him in the shoulder.  “Such a sap, Winchester.”  Her words may have called him out on his sentimentality, but Dean could see the flush of pride on her face.   
  
Another small group of students was coming down the hall so Charlie turned her attention to welcoming them.  Dean looked around the room again and was surprised at the diversity of the group.  He was used to the cliques of high school, and it was still a novelty to see students that wouldn’t have had reason to be in the same room in his previous experience.  
  
Dean turned back around just as Charlie was ushering the last student into the room. He let out an audible gasp and blindly reached to the side to grab Charlie’s arm for support.  There, staring right at him with a look of not only surprise, but longing and familiarity, were the same blue eyes that had been on his mind almost constantly since he’d seen Cas’ name on the signup sheet.  
  
Cas looked exactly the same, yet so completely different.  Gone were the perfectly pressed slacks, button down shirt, and the parted hair that Dean loved to run his fingers through.  It’s not like it would ever stay flat anyway.  Cas’ eyes were still that same vibrant blue that could hold Dean completely captivated, only now they were rimmed with a fine black kohl line.  Dean’s old friend was wearing bright blue chucks, black leggings, and an oversized yellow sweater, with his thick dark hair sticking out in a million directions as if he’d just rolled out of bed.  Dean noticed, tucked just behind Cas’ right ear, was a little yellow and black bumblebee.  He knew without checking that it would be attached to a little silver hair clip, and without even considering whether he still had the right, Dean reached out with one finger and gently touched the little yellow and black thing.  


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“You still wear these?” he whispered.  
  
Cas just nodded, looking at Dean like a deer caught in the headlights.  Dean lowered his hand and glanced over to Charlie whose eyes were darting quickly between Dean and Cas, obviously unsure whether she was going to have to break up a fight or deal with a panic attack.  
  
“Charlie Bradbury, this is Castiel Novak.”  
  
Charlie held out her hand for Cas to shake, and he didn’t hesitate return the gesture.  
  
“It’s nice to meet you, Charlie.”  
  
Dean’s heart jumped into his throat when Cas spoke.  He hadn’t heard that voice in over three years, and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the low timbre of it.  Cas’ voice had been the epicentre of so many pivotal moments in his life.  It had made him laugh, talked to him on the phone about mundane things, soothed him, and whispered sweet sentiments in his ear. Dean was so preoccupied by his thoughts he’d barely realized that Charlie was speaking.  
  
“Why don’t you guys go find a place to sit down?  We’re just gonna go over a few things and then everyone can visit and get to know each other a bit.  That will give you two a chance to catch up.”  Charlie looked pointedly over at Cas.  “I know you haven’t seen each other in a while.  I’m sure you have a lot to talk about.”  
  
Dean nodded in agreement, not missing the protective look on his friend’s face, and made his way over to an empty space on one of the couches.  Cas followed behind and took a seat on a folding chair just to Dean’s left.   
  
There were several items the Spectrum volunteers wanted to discuss with the group, but Dean had no idea what they were.  Apparently he’d have to check with Charlie later because he was completely distracted by Cas’ presence.  He knew there was a good chance Cas would show up, but Dean hadn’t been prepared for the reality of actually seeing his friend again.  He repeatedly found himself gazing in Cas’ direction; quickly turning back again if he noticed that Cas was looking at him, which he was more often than not.  They were obviously gonna have to talk.  Dean needed answers and whether he was ready or not, Cas owed him that.  You couldn’t just disappear out of someone’s life without a trace and not give a reason.  It had been three years – three hellish years!  It was time to finally put an end to the questions.  
  
Dean’s eyes flicked again to the little bumblebee in Cas’ hair, taking him back to the first time he’d ever seen one of the little hair clips Cas loved so much.   
  
They’d been inseparable throughout middle school, and the summer before their first year of high school was one they planned to make the most of.  They both knew high school meant more work and less free time.  
  
As Cas was now fourteen, his uncle Zachariah had backed off a little and he didn’t always ask where Cas was going.  This gave Dean and Cas a little more freedom than they’d had when they were younger, and Dean knew Cas appreciated not having to lie as often.   
  
The boys spent a lot of time at the local outdoor pool.  Sometimes they dragged Sammy along, which Dean knew his mom appreciated.  They also liked to chill at Dean’s and play videogames or watch movies.  Mary always made sure they had snacks and soda, and she treated Cas like he was another one of her boys.  If they had a little money, they’d hop on Dean’s bike, with Cas riding up front on the pegs, and they’d hit up McDonald's or the mall.  But, their absolute favourite thing to do together was to ride down to the river.  
  
The both relished the feeling of pure freedom as they flew down the back roads just outside the city limits.  With the wind in their hair and the sun on their tanned skin, they followed the fields of corn and beans until the sight of the weeping willows meant the water was close.  They slowed down as the ruts in the road made the bike tires bump and slide.  Dean manoeuvered the old BMX through the trees to their usual spot, where they both hopped off and the bike clattered to the dusty ground.  
  
From there it was a race to see who could strip off their clothes and shoes the fastest and grab for the rope they’d knotted in the tree a couple of summers ago.  Dean had Cas slightly in height, but Cas was faster, so he was almost always the first one there.  Cas leapt from a few feet away, grabbed the rope in the air and with the momentum he’d built up, propelled himself into the water.  Dean was right behind him, and within minutes they were both waist-deep in the water laughing and splashing each other like a couple of playful water birds.  
  
The river was deceiving.  The water looked slow and lazy from the shore, but the current was strong in the centre and Dean and Cas knew to stay clear.  The spot they’d chosen to hang the rope was a place where the bank jutted in a bit, causing a bit of a swimming hole where the water slowed.  As long as they stayed in that area, the water was slow turning and deep, perfect for playing around and spending a lazy summer day.  
  
Once their initial burst of energy had burned out, they floated aimlessly, occasionally bumping together as the current swirled in circles around them.  As the sun burned high and hot in the sky, Dean grabbed Cas by the arm and dunked them both under the water, cooling their sun-heated skin.  
  
“Let’s find some shade for a while.”  
  
Cas didn’t answer but followed Dean without question as his friend clambered up the muddy bank, grasping onto tree roots to stop from sliding right back into the river with the lack of traction from his bare feet.  Cas, right behind, both pushed Dean up, and attempted to keep himself from slipping as well.  Once Dean was up on the damp grass, he reached down a hand for Cas to grasp.  
  
“Here.  Hold on, and I’ll pull you the rest of the way.”  
  
Cas grasped his arm, and Dean yanked him up onto the bank, toppling them both over in the process.  A tangle of scrawny teenaged limbs followed while they tried to right themselves into a sitting position on the muddy bank.   
  
“One day we’re going to work out how to do that gracefully,” Cas laughed, lying down carefully on his back under the cool shade of the majestic weeping willow.   
  
Dean flopped down beside his friend, their arms touching as always and shook his head.  “We’ve been coming here for years already, and we haven’t figured it out yet.  Somehow I don’t think it’s gonna happen.  Besides, that way’s more fun.”  Dean rolled to his side and curled into his friend, wrapping his tanned arms around Cas’ middle and trailing his fingers lightly along Cas’ prominent ribs – still damp and sun-warm.  
  
“I’m gonna miss this after summer.  Gonna miss this time with you.”  
  
Cas reached down to lightly cover Dean’s hand with his own, tickling the back of Dean’s knuckles with just the tips of two fingers as not to halt Dean’s movements.  Dean loved it when Cas touched him.  It made him feel grounded and safe.  He didn’t question why he felt that way.  He didn’t think about the names the kids at school sometimes called them.  He loved Cas.  He always had.  It was only now that they were getting older that he was realizing that maybe the kind of love he felt for his best friend was the kind people argued about.  He didn’t think it was wrong, but apparently many people did.  He wanted to ask his mom, but he was scared to.  He wanted to talk to Cas, too, but he didn’t know how to bring it up.  He knew Cas felt it, too.  That connection they’d always had.  It wasn’t just him.  He could feel the sense of completeness deep inside when he was with Cas.  As long as they weren’t too far apart, that rubber band that bound them together didn’t snap.  
  
They lay there in silence, enjoying the peace of the lazy summer afternoon.  The sun dappled through the leaves of the giant willow tree, the light breeze causing the dots of light to dart across their naked bodies like lightning bugs at twilight.  No one ever disturbed them.  Their secret spot was too far off the beaten path for anyone to bother finding it.   
  
Dean reached up and behind him to grab at a handful of their clothes to stuff under their heads.  The ground was getting a little uncomfortable, but he was feeling way too drowsy to bother moving.  He could see Cas’ eyes fluttering; a telling sign that his friend was also dozing off in the warmth of the sun.  
  
One handed, as not to disturb Cas; Dean managed to grasp at something soft behind his head.  Not being able to really move with 120 pounds of 14-year-old cuddled into his side, Dean couldn’t tell whose clothes they were, nor did he really care, he just shoved them under both he and Cas’ heads.  Something hard poked at his finger when he was trying to arrange the pillow a bit for Cas.  Dean felt for it, not wanting the stick, or whatever it was, to poke his friend in the ear while he was asleep.  When he grabbed it between his fingers and brought it up to look, he realized it wasn’t a stick at all, but a pretty little hair clip with a sparkly jeweled butterfly on the end.  
  
Dean gently set the clip aside, mentally reminding himself to give it to Cas later.  It was probably Anna’s, and Dean didn’t want it to be left behind.  With that thought in mind, he dozed off with the breeze tickling his hair and Cas’ gentle touch on his skin.  
  
When he woke, the first thing he noticed was how much darker it was.  He glanced over to see that Cas was sitting cross-legged beside him, already wearing his shorts, but no shirt yet.  
  
“How long did we sleep?  Are we late?”  Dean hated if they didn’t get home on time.  His parents didn’t mind as long as he was home for dinner, but Cas’ uncle was a mean son of a bitch and Dean never wanted to give him a reason to be angry with Cas.  
   
“No.  Don’t worry.  We only slept about an hour.”   
  
Dean pulled himself up slowly, working the stiffness out of his muscles from lying on the uncomfortable ground.  He grabbed the clothes from behind him and realized why Cas was bare-chested.    
  
“Why’s it so dark?” Dean questioned, tossing Cas his missing shirt.  
  
“Look up, Dean.”  
  
Dean stepped out from the shade of the huge tree and looked up at the expanse of dark, grey cloudy sky.  They were definitely in for one heck of a storm, and it wasn’t gonna be long before the rain caught up to them.  It was likely to be a wet ride home.   
  
“I guess we better try and beat this, huh?  Oh, hey, wait a minute.”  Dean jogged over to where they’d been lying by the bank of the river.  “This fell out of your pocket when we dumped our clothes to go swim.  I think it must be Anna’s.”  
  
Cas opened his mouth like he was about to answer Dean, but he didn’t actually say anything.  The expression on his face went immediately from that of Dean’s fail-safe best friend, to that of someone who was about to have their heart stomped on and tossed away.  Dean was stunned by the suddenness of his friend’s transformation, and his first instinct was to pull Cas into a hug and hold him until whatever inside force that was hurting him stopped.  
  
Dean could feel Cas shaking.  He waited for a few minutes until he was sure Cas knew he wasn’t going to desert him, and then he pulled back with a soft questioning look on his face.  
  
“Cas. What is it? Is it something about Anna’s hairclip? Was it your mom’s or something? What did I say?”  
  
Cas shook his head, still obviously upset.  Dean didn’t know what else to do and it was starting to rain, so he grasped Cas’ by the arm and heaved him back under the willow branches.  They sat down, tucked in close to the trunk of the tree, and Dean wrapped his arm around Cas’ shoulders, gathering him close.  
  
“Talk to me,” Dean whispered.  “I need to know what has you so spooked.”  
  
When Cas finally looked at him, all Dean could see was fear.  He’d been prepared for sadness, or anger, but not the frightened face that was pleading at him for some kind of understanding.  Dean squeezed Cas tighter, the only way he knew how to tell Cas he wasn’t alone.  That no matter what it was, Dean was in it with him.  
  
Cas held up the little metal clip, the butterfly now less glittery with the lack of sunshine to make the coloured stones in its wings glint and shine.  “This is mine.  Anna said I could have it.”  
  
Dean shrugged.  So?  Cas wanted some little butterfly thing from Anna.  Dean wasn’t sure what the big hoopla was still.  His bewildered look must’ve given him away because Cas continued.  
  
“She gave it to me because I kept borrowing hers to wear in my hair in her room.  Sometimes I also put on her eyeliner to wear with them.  It makes me feel like a girl.”  
  
Dean took a few moments to process what Cas was telling him.  He wasn’t sure he fully understood.  
  
“So you want to be a girl?” he asked tentatively, not wanting to upset Cas any more than he was already.  This was clearly a touchy subject, and Dean was nervous about how to approach it.  
  
Cas didn’t answer right away, seemingly taking his time to formulate a response to Dean’s question.  When he did finally answer, he turned in Dean’s arms so he could face him.  
  
“No, I don’t want to be a girl.  I like being a boy – sometimes.  I googled it, and I think that I’m gender fluid.  Do you know what that means?”  
  
Dean shook his head.  He could make sense of it a little bit just from the words themselves, but that wasn’t enough.  
  
“It means that I feel like both a boy and a girl inside.  Sometimes, the more female part of me is pushing to come forward and sometimes it’s the male part.  Sometimes it just doesn’t matter at all.  Like the label, I feel like I’m kind of fluid, like water.  That’s quite an accurate word.”  
  
“That sort of makes sense, I guess,” Dean replied.  “So which do you feel like right now?”  
  
Cas laughed for the first time since before they fell asleep. “Just boy Cas right now.  Why?”  
  
“I’m just wondering if I could tell the difference,” Dean mused.  
  
“You might be able to a little bit.  I think if I was less careful about hiding it you might notice it a bit in my mannerisms or my speech.  You’d definitely notice if I was able to dress how I actually feel.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows shot up at that.  “Would you dress like a girl?”  
  
Cas held up the hair clip he’d been gripping in his hand.  “Not in the way you think, no.  I’m not going to start walking around in dresses and high-heeled shoes.  That’s not what I mean.  There’s just a more feminine side to me that I’d like to explore a bit, and sometimes Anna helps me in secret.  That’s why she gave me this.  I like them.  They’re pretty and girly without being over the top, you know?”  
  
Dean held out his hand.  “Can I put it in your hair?  I want to see what it looks like.”  
  
Cas dropped the clip in Dean’s open palm and moved forward until he was almost perched in Dean’s lap and Dean could feel his breath softly on his neck.  Between the humidity from the rain, the intensity of their conversation, and Cas’ proximity, Dean was finding it difficult to breathe.  He reached up and delicately placed the clip in Cas’ hair, just above his ear.  He brushed a few stray hairs out of the way and moved back slightly to check his work.   
  
There was something in the way Cas was looking at him – something that he’d seen before but never acted on.  This time he did.  He closed the distance slowly, feeling his breath catch as his lips met Cas’.  Dean’s eyes fluttered closed and his hand automatically found its way to the nape of Cas’ neck and he leaned in a little, pressing just a little more insistently, tilting his head to get the angle right.  Cas kissed back, and it felt perfect.  It felt like every minute they’d spent together since that first day at the playground had been leading up to this.  
  
Dean was still staring at the bumblebee clip in Cas’ hair when the people started shuffling around him, getting up and pouring water and grabbing snacks.  He’d managed to stare at the side of Cas’ head throughout the entire business part of the meeting.  God, he was so fucked.  Just as he was about to push himself out of the couch and see if Charlie needed any help with anything, he was confronted with the very real subject of his recent distraction, standing right in front of him, looking as nervous as he felt.  
  
“Hello again, Dean.  I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go somewhere quiet and talk?”


	4. Our Little World

[ ](http://s521.photobucket.com/user/paula2809/media/b8f3adb0-592d-4427-bc32-9446254bfc29.png.html)

Cas could feel the butterflies under his skin as he approached Dean. It felt like every nerve ending in his body was on high alert just waiting for Dean to tell him to go to hell, or some other series of expletives that Dean felt were rightfully deserved. In some ways, Cas supposed he was right. But neither knew the missing pieces of the other’s last three years, so Cas really hoped they could get through this first awkward part without lashing out.

When he asked Dean if they could go somewhere quieter, he hadn’t answered right away. Dean’s expressive green eyes had always told Cas everything the other boy was feeling, and now, on edge of adulthood, even after all this time, that hadn’t changed. Dean was scared. His pupils were dilated, with just a sliver of pale green surrounding them. When Dean’s eyes took on that shade, something was bothering him. That, in combination with his curled-in body language showed an unease that Cas wasn’t used to seeing in Dean. Cas wasn’t prepared for that. Dean had always been the strong one. It threw Cas for a loop that right now the shoe might just be on the other foot.

Cas tried to convey as much warmth as he could with a look. He didn’t know how to connect properly with Dean in the absence of touch, and touch was something he didn’t have a right to anymore. Dean must’ve seen what he needed to because he nodded slowly and pushed himself up from the couch without saying a word. Cas took that to mean that he was to take the lead, so he headed for the door.

Dean stopped briefly to say something to Charlie, leaning into her to speak quietly in her ear, likely letting her know he was leaving. She gave Cas that rigid look again. He could tell she was a good friend to Dean, and he was glad. He’d never had another real friend after Dean, well other than Gabriel and Anna, and siblings didn’t really count.

“I’m ready to go,” Dean finally spoke as he approached after leaving Charlie chatting with another group of students. “Charlie says she’s good to clean up without me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized you were needed here until the end.”

Cas had been so preoccupied with getting the chance to spend some time talking with Dean that he hadn’t considered that Dean might already have something planned for the rest of the evening.

“Naw, don’t worry. It’s fine. Charlie has no shortage of helpers in there. She’ll cover it. So? Where to?” Dean shoved his hands in the front pockets of his worn jeans and gave Cas a small smile.

Cas felt his insides turn to mush at the sight of Dean’s smile. He’d missed Dean so much. Thinking about his friend had been all that kept him going at Crowley’s, and then the memories of what they’d shared, as forbidden as they were, were what he imagined when saw his future escape from the strict day-to-day of boarding school. Even if he never saw Dean again, he just knew that he’d never meet anyone else that would fill that Dean-sized space in his heart.

“How about a walk? I know a nice spot we can sit and catch up a bit.” 

Dean shrugged his shoulders in reply, and Cas took that to mean he was to take the lead yet again. Not quite knowing what to do with his hands, he wrapped his arms around his body, twisting his fingers into the bulk of his favourite sweater and set out down the hall towards the stairs.

It was a cool and quiet night on campus. It had rained earlier in the evening which had left the grass damp and cooled the air enough to make it a comfortable temperature for walking, yet settled some of the summer dust without leaving it too humid. It was just getting dark enough to see the first pinpricks of fireflies flickering in and out amongst the foliage where the landscaping was thick and well cared for. The cicadas hummed in the background, their electrical sound almost a white noise, not really noticeable until its absence.

Cas and Dean walked side by side, not quite touching, but close enough out of habit that the backs of their hands brushed occasionally. Neither said anything, but neither moved apart. Cas led them across campus to where he’d been sketching the night before and noticed Dean. The bronze art installation shone where the rain had cleansed her dusty body and many legs. She really was quite beautiful, even if a little unusual with her big cartoony eyes. Cas was quite fond of her already and had looked up her name and history on the WSU website. 

“Her name is Millie the Millipede,” he told Dean as they stood and looked at her wide, rounded body. “I was actually sitting here last night drawing her, trying to settle myself down worrying about going to that group, and I saw you.” 

Dean whipped his head around to stare at Cas. “You saw me?”

Cas glanced over at Dean but then looked back at Millie’s kind face and continued. “Yes. I had no idea you’d be here, and then suddenly there you were. I couldn’t breathe for a minute. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Dean voice was barely a whisper. “You’re the one who left, Cas.”

This time Cas did turn. He had to be able to see Dean’s face. He had to look him right in the eyes so that Dean knew he was being 100 percent truthful. “I didn’t just leave, Dean. You have to know that. I would never have left you if I’d been given any kind of choice.”

“Then why?”

This was the moment Cas had been dreading since he’d spotted Dean the day before, since he’d run into him at the Spectrum meeting, since he’d asked him to come for a walk – it all came down to this. Cas had not talked about that part of his life to anyone except Gabriel. Not even Anna knew where Cas went after he left Lawrence when he was 15. She was told he had mental health issues and had spent some time in a hospital. Cas would rather that than the reality of his life for that first month. He took a deep breath and hoped he could keep it together while he tried to make Dean understand why he left Lawrence.

“My uncle forced me to go away.”

Dean’s facial expression hadn’t changed. He still had a questioning look on his face, and Cas knew it would take a lot more than that simple sentence to put things right. A sense of calm suddenly invaded his body. With Dean finally beside him, he felt he could confront the demons of his past once and for all and put them to rest. Maybe it was finally time to speak the words aloud and let them take flight. Cas was sure that if he knew Dean at all, Dean wouldn’t let him shoulder these memories alone. This wasn’t the first confession Cas had made to Dean. Dean had held him through it the last time. He’d promised to stand by Cas, and he had. Cas firmly believed Dean would do the same again. With that faith firmly in place, he continued.

“Do you remember the night we danced in the trees by the school? I was wearing that purple skirt of Anna’s over my slacks and you were twirling me around under the stars?” Cas peered up at the darkening sky, the pinpricks of light easily taking him back.

Dean nodded slowly, seemingly lost in the same memory Cas was describing.

“He saw us, Dean.”

Cas was surprised when Dean slowly reached over and slid his palm over the top of Cas’, glancing up as if to ask permission before intertwining their fingers. Cas couldn’t believe how right it felt. Even after three years, their hands still melded together perfectly.

Dean finally spoke. “That was such an amazing night, Cas.” It seemed to take a few minutes before he could find the words to continue. Sadness seemed to permeate his expression when he did eventually go on. “Until just now, when you brought up the dancing, I had blocked out anything good about that night. All I remembered was that it was the last time I ever saw you.”

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand. “It was a wonderful night. At least it started out that way. That night was the last memory I had of you.”

He thought back to that fateful day when they were fifteen. They were so young, and so in love with each other, the outside world really didn’t matter. The winter dance was all anyone was talking about. Cas wanted to go. It wasn’t really Dean’s thing, but he would do anything for Cas, so apparently they were going. Not together as anything more than friends, of course. Kids at school had their suspicions about the closeness of their friendship, they always had, but no one actually knew they were boyfriends and they had to keep it that way.

As usual, Cas told his uncle Zachariah he was going to the library to work on an assignment with a study group. There was no chance his uncle would let him go to a dance at school, so there was no point in him even asking. He walked over to Dean’s with a backpack stuffed with books to keep up the charade.

He was accustomed to the Winchester family home after five years of spending time there, but he still had that same sense of wonder every time Mary ushered him through the front door into the small foyer. That it was possible to live in a house that was filled with love and warmth was such a foreign feeling for Cas, he always took a moment to soak it in before heading upstairs to Dean’s room.

Dean was rifling through his closet when Cas quietly stepped into the room, shut the door with an almost soundless click, and tossed his backpack on the bed. Dean still hadn’t realized he was there, so Cas took the opportunity to sneak up behind him and wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s shirtless waist.

Dean startled in Cas’ arms. “I will never understand how you do that. I still think I need to hang a damn bell around your neck.”

Cas just grinned. He’d heard that same line from Dean so many times he’d come to expect it. He leaned around Dean’s lithe frame to reach for a hunter green button down shirt he’d never seen Dean wear, but he could imagine would look beautiful with his eyes. He trailed a few butterfly kisses along Dean’s shoulder blade as he pulled his arm back.

“Please wear this one?” he whispered between kisses, grabbing the hanger and stuffing it in Dean’s arms.

Dean turned in Cas’ embrace and flung the shirt in the general direction of the bed. He took advantage of his now free hands to grasp the back of Cas’ head and pull him in for a proper kiss, sinking his fingers into Cas’ thick hair.

Cas moved effortlessly into Dean’s space, his hands unconsciously roaming the expanse of freckled skin. As he moved his lips against Dean’s with increasing intent, his fingers mapped out every dip, every indent, every slight imperfection. Cas loved every one – every detail of Dean’s body and soul was captivating, and Cas could never get enough.

Dean groaned as he nipped and licked down Cas’ jawline to his neck. “My Dad’s gonna be yelling up here any minute to see if we’re ready to go.”

Sliding his palms enticingly down Dean’s sides in answer, Cas trailed one hand teasingly across the noticeable bulge in the front of Dean’s black jeans, finishing with a quick squeeze and a kiss to a bare nipple before jumping back to the bed and grabbing the hanger with the green shirt.

“So. This?” he questioned, holding it up with a smirk.

Dean grabbed the hanger out of Cas’ hand while trying to wiggle enough to adjust himself. “You are an asshole!” he claimed, with very little venom. Cas just laughed at the spectacle he was making. God, he loved Dean so much.

The winter dance was pretty boring. Cas talked a little with Becky about their chemistry lab while Dean hung out a bit with Benny and Andrea. Mostly, they stuck together in the corner of the gym and tried to avoid the bullies like Alastair and Gordon who called them fags and tried to get them to dance with girls to “prove they were no-homo.” When Dean suggested they go for a walk, Cas was happy to get out of the stifling atmosphere and admit Dean was right. They should’ve just hung out at Dean’s and played video games instead.

The grabbed their jackets and Cas’ backpack from the coat check in the locker room and went out into the chill winter evening. It had started to snow since they’d arrived, and there was a shimmer of white on the parking lot. They bypassed the cars and walked over to the treed parkland beside the school grounds. As soon as they were out of sight, Cas reached over and slipped his hand into Dean’s slightly larger one. 

“That’s better,” Cas sighed. “Watching all of those couples dancing close had me wishing.”

“You wanted to dance, Cas?”

“The girls all looked so pretty and the boys held them so gently. It was romantic.”

Dean stopped walking and pulled Cas into his arms. “My Cas. Such a sap.” 

The snow fell almost silently around them as they stood holding each other close wrapped in their winter jackets, the music from the school gym just audible in the background.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean whispered. “What would you have worn to the dance tonight if it didn’t matter what people thought?”

Cas smiled and pulled Dean down to crouch beside his backpack. He unzipped it and dug around until he felt what he was searching for. When he pulled his hand back out, Cas was holding a gauzy, purple short skirt with a black lace ruffle around the bottom. Cas ran his fingers through the fabric, loving the way it felt on his skin and held it up to Dean. He hoped that the small amount of light from the lamps in the parking lot reflecting on the snow would still carry enough light even at a distance that Dean would be able to see it. Anna had just given it to him that morning, and he loved it so very much.

“That’s sure pretty, Cas. Why don’t you put it on over your pants? I wanna see how you look in it.”

Cas nodded excitedly and gingerly lifted one foot at a time into the skirt, careful not to cover it with snow. He pulled it up to his waist under his jacket and then reached back down to the little zipper pocket on his backpack. He pulled out his favourite butterfly hairclip and handed it to Dean. Dean lovingly placed the little clip just above Cas’ ear and stepped back.

Cas twirled once in place and giggled as Dean appraised him. He didn’t usually feel so self-conscious in front of his boyfriend, but Dean was gazing at him so intently.

“Cas. You look so beautiful. I hate that you can’t wear that for real.”

Cas could feel tears welling in his eyes. It hurt Dean that Cas couldn’t express himself the way he wanted to, and Cas loved him so much for that. He propelled himself into Dean’s arms before he lost it completely. “Dance with me, Dean.”

“Here?” Dean replied nervously.

Cas closed his eyes and began to sway to the music. “Yes. Right here.”

Cas was pretty sure if he lived to be a hundred, life couldn’t get much more perfect than it was right at that moment. Dean held him tight against the chill as they slowly turned, barely moving to the music they could just make out, filtering its way from the school gym. It was picture perfect with the snow falling softly around them and Cas knew he would remember it as one of those salient moments that define a relationship. All he could do was lay his head on Dean’s shoulder and soak it in.

Cas felt like his head was still in the clouds when he and Dean stole quick kisses before Dean’s dad picked them up after the dance. The feeling remained for the drive back to Dean’s and through whispered “I love yous” before Cas left to walk home. Cas was sure he was walking on air for the entire 10 minutes it took to get back to his uncle’s house, and he was still humming to himself when he unlocked the front door and flicked on the light to toe off his shoes.

Everything was still wonderful when he shrugged out of his wet jacket and hung it up on in the hall closet, and he was grinning from ear to ear when he got to the bottom of the stairs, but everything shattered to pieces when he heard his uncle’s ugly, sneering voice from the front room.

“You can stop right there, Castiel.”

Cas froze. Uncle Zachariah rarely spoke to him at all, let alone addressed him in such a tone. He silently ran through everything he’d done that day that could have angered the man and came up blank. With his guard up, Cas turned slowly, trying to delay the inevitable. His uncle was less patient.

“Turn around and look at me, you abhorrent child!”

Cas’ eyes flew open, and his back straightened in disbelief. Whatever Uncle Zachariah knew, it was bad. He could feel himself starting to shake and the beginnings of tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

“Give me your backpack,” his uncle boomed, staring at the bag hanging loosely from Cas’ fingers.

Without even considering the consequences, Cas shook his head and tightened his grip on the canvas handle. He hadn’t intended to put up a fight, but his body had betrayed him and now he planned to follow through. Uncle Zachariah wasn’t playing games though. The heavyset man lunged for Cas, grabbing the bag with one hand and shoving Cas forcefully towards the stairs with the other. Cas stumbled backwards, grasping the railing to break his fall. He landed heavily, the edge of the step jamming into his tailbone. Cas felt his shoulder pop from the force of his uncle yanking the backpack from his hand and couldn’t help the scream that erupted from the pain that shot down his arm. Tears fell freely as Cas watched his uncle rip the zipper apart and unceremoniously dump the bag’s contents onto the hardwood floor. A clatter of books, pens, binders and Cas’ iPad went ignored as Uncle Zachariah wrapped his bulbous fingers around the purple fabric of what he’d obviously been hoping to find.

“So, how did it feel to be dressed as a little whore while that faggot Winchester boy fucked you, Castiel? 

Cas cradled his arm and rocked back and forth, shaking his head violently. No, his Uncle had it all wrong. He and Dean had never done that. They were too young. He loved Dean. Everything between them was perfect and beautiful. He jumped up, grimacing at the pain in his back and his shoulder. 

“That’s mine!” he hiccupped, trying to grab his delicate skirt back before his uncle ruined it. Dean had told him how pretty it was – how beautiful he’d looked in it. No one could take that away from him. No one!

“You wanna be a bitch, Castiel? You wanna be slut just like your mother? Can’t be a man and even get a girl to fuck you so you have to dress like one and screw with little boys instead? You’re an abomination who will never find a place in Heaven. You’re depraved, and you are no longer welcome in my house. I’ve found a place that will teach you the proper way to follow our Lord and Saviour. You will stay there until this sickness is out of your system for good, and then you will transfer to a private boarding school until you’re 18, far, far away from that disgusting, vile excuse for a boy, Dean Winchester.”

Castiel couldn’t process what he was hearing. What he and Dean had wasn’t sick. It wasn’t wrong. His uncle couldn’t make him leave. He couldn’t take him away from Dean. Dean was the only good in his life. He loved Dean. No!

“No! No, no, no…” Cas was screaming so loud his voice was hoarse. He was thumping his hands against the bannister, not even feeling the pain in his shoulder anymore. He screamed and cried until his uncle strode up to him and grabbed him around the jaw with one giant hand and yanked him up from the steps, dragging him to the front door and shoving him against it hard. Cas felt his head snap back and crack against the solid oak surface. That’s the last thing he remembered as he slumped like dead weight to the tiled entryway floor.

Cas blinked awake slowly, only aware of pain radiating from every nerve ending. As he became more cognizant of his surroundings, he established he was on a skinny cot covered with a scratchy blanket, which meant he was no longer at home. Memories came flooding back with ocean strength, and his body filled with an altogether different kind of pain. He had no idea where he was or how much time had passed, he just knew he was no longer in Lawrence and he’d been ripped away from his beloved Dean.

Careful not to move too quickly, Cas moved the arm that wasn’t strapped to his body with a sling and started at his head. He had a bandage of some kind wrapped thickly from his forehead to the nape of his neck, which explained the pounding headache. When there didn’t seem to be any other obvious injuries, Cas warily pulled himself up one-handed until he was sitting, giving himself a better view of his surroundings. He was in a small room with just the cot underneath him, a rickety looking desk with an old lamp topped with a stained, tasselled shade, and his suitcase – the one he had brought to his uncle’s when he was 10. He assumed his uncle must’ve packed some of his belongings because he certainly hadn’t been in a position to.

The pain in his lower back was becoming unbearable, so Cas figured he should probably lie back down. Just as he was about to position his weight on his arm to do just that, the door to the small room swung open and a middle-aged man dressed in black slacks and a black button-down shirt with a blood red tie stood just inside.

“Hello, Castiel. Good of you to finally join us. Name’s Crowley. Welcome to Stairway to Heaven.”


	5. Torn and Frayed

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It was completely dark by the time Cas needed a break from talking, and only the occasional small group of students wandered by on their way back from meeting with friends or working at the library. The rain had started again as a fine mist, but neither Dean nor Cas had really noticed – too wrapped up in the past to pay much attention to their present.

Dean had listened, mesmerized, while Cas told his story. He’d watched Cas’ eyes change from pale blue to almost black, shiny with tears, several times as emotions flickered across his face, clearly struggling with a tale that had taken its toll. Dean could feel the guilt eating away at him as he remembered so much misplaced anger and anxiety of his own. He wanted nothing more than to pull Cas into his arms and hold him until all the hurt was gone, but he knew the time for that had long passed.  
  
Having heard Cas’ accounting, Dean wanted to kill Zachariah with his bare hands; but no, even that was too good for him. Dean wanted him to suffer. He wanted him to know what it felt like to be bullied and ridiculed – what names like faggot and fudge packer and pansy ass could do to your sense of self when you're 15. But men like Zachariah have no care for how their actions impact others.

Dean wanted the man to know how easily you could doubt whether your life was even worth it when the level of hatred was so damn high and the only person who cared about you that much was ripped away from you like you were completely insignificant. But, again, none of this would have meaning for a self-serving man like Zachariah. After all, if he’d had any measure of empathy, those words would never have fallen from his lips at the start. The man didn’t need a lesson in the damage his words had caused. The pain that Cas had suffered at his hand was intentional, not an accident or an oversight; his words were meant to cause pain. They were chosen to make Cas question himself and doubt his self-worth. And a man who cared so little for his own couldn’t be made to care about how all this had affected Dean.

It was this startling realization that pushed Dean over the edge. He could feel righteous indignation roaring in his veins, and behind his eyelids swam vivid pictures of the various punishments that might be suitable for a man like Cas’ uncle. Each imagining of escalated injuries and embarrassments were initially satisfying but soon withered as Dean’s mind rejected each as insufficient. His head started to swim as he began to realize that he was incapable of exerting an appropriate revenge for all that had been done to Cas, for all the wounds that had permanent scars on the soul of the purest and most wonderful person Dean had ever known. There was no punishment severe enough, but the images wouldn’t stop and the feeling of injustice grew until it was seeping from his pores. The weight of what churned in his mind and pulsed in his body was overwhelming, and Dean's arms were starting to prickle – goose pimples forming on his skin.

The soft mist that still hung from the previous rain was heavy around them, and his shirt was sticking to him under the weight of his leather jacket. He was too cold, yet too warm at the same time and he couldn't decide if he felt claustrophobic surrounded by the foliage in the small landscaped area around Millie, or too out in the open, too vulnerable. Dean could feel his breathing becoming shallower, and he knew he needed to do something. Charlie wasn't here, and he knew Cas wouldn't recognize the signs. He tried to speak, but he was already beyond words. Looking up at Cas, Dean pleaded for help with his watery, scared eyes.

As he managed a shaky look, Dean could see that Cas was already trying to ask him something but he couldn't make out full sentences, just individual words. "Touch? No? Breathe? Count?" Dean shook his head and began to rock and gasp. He was gonna pass out – it was just a matter of time unless he could control his breathing, and he just couldn't do that alone.

Dean was getting desperate. He lashed out with his arms, trying to grab hold of Cas, shake him, anything to make him understand. Cas' eyes opened wide with a look of absolute relief, and he threw his arms around Dean and drew him in tight as he could and began to chant methodically in Dean's ear.

"You're okay, Dean. It's a panic attack. You need to listen to me. Feel my arms around you? I've got you, and I'm not going to let go. I want you to listen to me breathe. Can you hear that? I'm going to breathe in and count, then breathe out and count, okay? You breathe when I breathe. I'm going to hold you through it, and we're going to do this together. In....1....out....2....in...3...out...4...in...5...out...6 how are we doing there, Dean?"

Dean nodded. It was working. Cas knew exactly what he was doing. Dean wasn't sure what he was waiting for before but once he jumped in, to Dean’s relief, he didn't waste any time doing exactly what needed to be done. As Dean's breathing slowed, so did Cas' words, and his touches. Cas ran his hands gently up and down Dean's arms, over his shoulders, through his damp hair.

"It's ok, Dean. I'm here. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm so sorry, my love. So, so, sorry. God, I never meant to leave you. I’m so sorry."

Dean melted into the strength of Cas’ embrace, feeling safe and warm. As his panic subsided, Cas’ words started to sink in. He was sorry for leaving, sorry for abandoning Dean, still loved Dean. He thought that’s what had… no, no, wait… Dean gulped a fresh breath of air and lifted himself from the cocoon of Cas’ arms, tilting his head up to meet Cas’ eyes.

“You don’t have to apologise for that, Cas. That wasn’t your fault, and that’s definitely not what caused my attack.”

“Then what, Dean?” Cas asked tenderly.

Dean dropped his eyes in embarrassment. His issues with anxiety and depression weren’t something he was good at talking about. There was a time when he and Cas could share each other’s deepest fears and secrets, but that had been a long time ago. Now that he was on the precipice of having Cas back in his life, Dean was terrified of scaring him away.

Cas cupped Dean’s jaw with his slender fingers and tilted his head up to meet his eyes. “Talk to me.”

Dean nodded. “I was imaging your uncle doing all of those horrible things to you, calling you all of those awful names. Then, I started imagining all of the ways I wanted to pay him back – all of the things I wanted him to feel. Some of those things triggered emotions, difficult memories, I guess. Sometimes stuff like that makes me anxious, and I kinda freak out.”

“You didn’t used to have panic attacks. What happened after I left?” Cas asked curiously.

Dean sighed. “It was difficult after you left, Cas, so much changed.” Dean reached over and took Cas’ hand. “But I’m shot out now. Let’s call it a night, huh? Talk tomorrow?”  
It felt so right to be with Cas that he didn’t want to go. But he could feel his body sagging, and his bed called out to him. “I should get to bed,” he mumbled softly. “I have an early class. You know, I don’t even know what you’re majoring in.”

Cas smiled for the first time all evening. “Art, of course. What about you?”

Dean grinned, both at Cas’ response and his own. “Music,” he replied.

With everything they’d both been through, Dean was happy that at least they were both working towards something they loved. Dean stood and held a hand out to Cas. When Cas took it, and continued to hold it after Dean pulled him up from the bench, Dean smiled to himself. They had a long way to go, but maybe this was the beginning of getting back the part of his life that had been missing for the past three years.

Dean turned to Cas as they stood by the bench hand in hand. “How did you know what to do? Before. At first you looked so confused and you kept asking me questions, but I couldn’t make out what you were saying.”

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand. “Panic and anxiety attacks were something I had to deal with a lot where my uncle sent me, Dean. We all learned how to help each other through them. Some people respond well to touch, while others repel from it. I was trying to ask you what I should do, whether I could touch you, and when you finally grabbed for me, I knew I could hold you and you wouldn’t shy away from me. I just needed to slow your breathing, and I knew you would be ok. ”

Dean stilled then, looking into Cas’ eyes and said, “I spent a lot of years angry and upset for the wrong reasons, but I know better now. That’s the past. From here we move forward, okay?”

The squeeze Dean received in reply was the only response he needed.

The walk back to the dorms seemed peaceful even after the weight of what they’d shared and with the fear of Dean’s panic attack behind them. Dean hadn’t realized just how on edge he’d been since seeing Cas’ name on the sign-up sheet for the Spectrum group. The initial meeting had been riddled with anxious feelings, but being with Cas still felt natural and grounding, even with all the unfinished business between them.

Dean had been ready to make his life his own when he’d come to campus and now, with Cas by his side, it felt as if there was a prize for him. The idea of having the school year stretching out ahead of them relaxed him. He had plenty of time. They had plenty of time. They were on their own with no overprotective parents, abusive hyper-religious uncles, or vicious bullies to keep them apart. Here, they could be themselves. They could focus on healing the damage the past had done and get to know themselves and each other. They could, at last, be together. Dean couldn’t help but feel like every quiet, moonlit step he walked with Cas in the misty rain was a step in the right direction.

The following morning the sun was warm on his face as Dean dropped his backpack and guitar case on the grass, still humming the piece he’d been working on in his first Applied Instrumental workshop. He’d always loved how music came together. His parents had happily paid for guitar lessons and encouraged him, but they never quite understood how deep Dean’s love of music ran – how it stirred his soul.  
  
This wasn’t just something he enjoyed. He had a passion for it and a need to create it with his guitar, or even the piano if the guitar strings didn’t have the right feel. It was part of him, and he’d had to convince his parents he wanted to study it in college rather than the more practical things they’d hoped he’d choose.

Inhaling the fresh air deeply and with a sense of belonging to the environment around him, he pulled his guitar out of its well-worn case and set it on his lap to practice for a few minutes while he waited for Charlie to get out of class. There was a tricky finger-picking section he was working through for the second time when Dean was accosted from behind by a petit ball of red-headed energy covering his eyes with her hands.

“Guess who?”

“Gee, I dunno. Princess Leia?” Dean chuckled, setting his guitar back in the case before it became a casualty in the crossfire.

Charlie bounced around to drop cross legged in front of Dean. “Oh right. She only wishes she looked this good,” his bubbly friend replied, pointing a finger up and down her tiny frame.

Dean grinned. He was glad to see her. If there was anyone in the world that was guaranteed to make him laugh, it was Charlie. After he’d returned from his walk with Cas the night before, the first thing he’d done was text Charlie and ask her to meet him when they both had a break.  
  
Charlie had been there for the aftermath of Cas’ disappearance back in high school. He wanted to explain to her what had really happened so that any residual anger she may be carrying on Dean’s behalf could be extinguished. Charlie had a soft heart and couldn’t resist a lost soul. Dean knew that once he’d explained things to her, she’d take Cas under her wing.

“Ooh, before you fill me in on your chitty chat with Casanova, I brought you a treat from coding class this morning. Would you believe some nerd’s Mom actually baked lemon tarts?”

From under her laptop she produced a paper plate wrapped in foil and shoved it at Dean. The treat was a bit mangled, but Dean wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He groaned around the two-bite pastry, before giving Charlie the official thumbs up.

“This, right here, is why you’re my friend.”

Charlie actually looked offended. “You keep me around for my treat acquisition skills? And here I thought it was because of my superior listening ability and the fact that I can still get the kid’s ticket price at the movies.”

“All of the above, your worshipfulness,” Dean replied. “Now do you wanna put that superior listening ability to the test or what?”

“Of course, my dear handmaiden.”

She rested her head on her hand and gave Dean her complete attention. Charlie listened intently and didn’t judge or comment until he was finished. She may be a dork sometimes, but she was his dork, and she was on his side. She always had been.  
  
It took about an hour to fill Charlie in on his evening with Cas, and Dean could see that she was empathetic to what Cas had been through after he’d left Lawrence. Dean knew there was more to the story. Cas hadn’t told him anything much about the gay conversion therapy camp or the boarding school yet, but there was plenty of time for that, and he didn’t want to push. He, of all people, knew how difficult dipping into the past could be.

If he and Cas had the chance for a new start, they should do it right this time and work through their obstacles slowly. They were in college. Charlie was here. Dean was excited about the future now more than ever and was content enough to wait and see how it all played out.

It was Charlie’s suggestion that they get together for pizza and movies at Dean’s that night, easily including Cas in the idea of an Indiana Jones marathon, much to Dean’s delight. Dean had hesitantly texted Cas that afternoon, unsure if their tender friendship was at the point of making evening plans, but Cas seemed unfazed by the invitation and accepted readily.

They piled Dean’s bedding and pillows on the floor and put the laptop on the bed. Charlie brought the DVD’s and microwave popcorn, Dean ordered pizza from a little takeout place just off campus, and Cas brought Coke and a large bag of gummy bears. Dean thought it was a sweet gesture that Cas wanted to contribute. It wasn’t long before the three of them were engrossed in Raiders of the Lost Ark, licking pizza and popcorn grease off their fingers, and passing around the serious shortage of take-out napkins. Charlie was on her stomach, arms propped up on a pillow. Dean leaned against the dresser with another pillow propped behind his head and, clearly out of habit, Cas leaned his back up against Dean’s bent knees and pulled the comforter up around himself.

“It’s been so long since we watched this,” Charlie mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn. “I don’t even remember the last time, it’s been so long.”

Dean groaned, rubbing his swollen belly while seriously considering undoing his belt. “How can you still be eating? I don’t get where you even put all that food!”

“My metabolism works at warp-speed. Pass the pepperoni, will ya?”

Dean just shook his head in wonder as he reached for the pizza box and passed it to Cas, who in turn, tossed it in Charlie’s general direction where it landed on pillow beside her with a soft thud.

Before Charlie could stuff another slice of pizza in her mouth she suddenly rolled onto her side and looked over at Dean and Cas. “I remember now. The last time we watched Raiders. It was the night Alastair broke your arm.”

That got Cas’ attention, and he twisted his body 180 degrees to face Dean. “He did what?”

Dean let out a soft, controlled sigh, knowing this conversation with Cas had been inevitable. Charlie was here for backup, and she was as much a part of this story as he was. They were comfortable, they had time, there was really no time like the present.

“I got in a fight with Alastair and Gordon after school one day. I was holding my own, but it was two against one and eventually they got the better of me – shoved me hard enough that my arm got caught behind me and bent at a bad angle against the bricks. Broke my wrist in two places. Charlie met me at the hospital.”

Dean could see the anger seething below the surface of Cas’ eyes, the normal bright sapphire deepened to almost black. His first instinct was to brush it off.

“It wasn’t that bad, Cas. Really.”

“Wasn’t that bad? He broke your arm, Dean! How can you say that wasn’t bad?” Cas was clenching his jaw in an effort to control his emotions, and Dean could tell the strain was wearing on him. “What was the fight about anyway? They were always dicks to us, but they never resorted to physical violence.”

“Uh,” Dean started, not sure where to begin. It was difficult to explain what caused the fight without going into the whole sordid history of what life had been like for Dean after Cas had left Lawrence. “I think I better start at the beginning. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

Charlie chose that moment to interrupt. “I think if this conversation is gonna happen, which I agree it needs to; you should both get over here and snuggle with me in this pile of comforters and pillows.”

Charlie’s suggestion seemed to break Cas momentarily from his trance-like focus on Dean, and he nodded his head. They all crawled into what could almost be considered a blanket and pillow fort at this point and hunkered down into a puppy pile. Charlie shut off the movie and hit the play button on Dean’s speaker dock so there wasn’t complete silence.

As Twenty One Pilots filtered through the room, Dean almost felt as though all eyes were on him. He knew Cas was waiting for him to say something, but he wouldn’t push by asking. Dean reached over and took his boyfriend’s hand in his own and rubbed his thumb gently over the bumps and ridges of Cas’ knuckles. He loved Cas’ hands. They were so elegant and beautiful, yet rugged and calloused from holding brushes and pencils for hours at a time. Dean felt grounded when Cas’ hand was in his, and he needed that feeling now.

“At first when I didn’t hear from you the day after the dance, I was confused and a little bit upset. We’d had such a great night, and it wasn’t like you not to call or at least text. As they day went on, I started to worry. I knew your Uncle Zach could be an ass, and if he’d caught you, I wasn’t sure if he’d taken your phone or what.”

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand in a way that told Dean he already felt guilty for making him worry. Dean shook his head. “Cas, if I’m gonna tell you this story, you gotta know that none of this was your fault. You didn’t choose to leave; you were forced. I can’t do this knowing you’re feeling guilty, okay? None of this is on you.”

Even though Dean could tell Cas wanted to argue, he kept quiet, just nodding his head for Dean to continue. Dean could already feel himself descending into that bleak place he’d inhabited for months after Cas disappeared from his life. Just talking about it could transport him back there, dredging up the memories as if he were living them all over again.

When almost the entire day had passed with not a single word from Cas, Dean couldn’t stand waiting anymore. He’d tried calling and Cas’ phone just went straight to voicemail. He’d lost count of the number of texts he’d sent that had gone unanswered. The light dusting of snow on the ground wasn’t ideal bike riding weather, but it would get Dean to Cas’ house faster, and at that moment, that’s all Dean was concerned with. In the end though, it didn’t matter. When Dean’s tires skidded to a stop in front of the imposing-looking house, all the windows were dark. There were no tire tracks in front of the garage, and the newspaper was still in the box by the front door, clearly indicating no one was or had been home.

If Cas’ uncle had taken him and Anna out of town for the day, Cas’ would’ve texted him to let him know. Dean was immediately suspicious that there was more to it than that, but without any word from Cas to give him any answers, there wasn’t anything to do but go home and wait for him to call.

By bedtime Dean was worried, and when Cas wasn’t in school the next morning he was a basket case, sure that something awful had happened. He hurried down to the office at lunch hoping to find out if Cas was sick or something, and Ms. Mills at the front desk looked at him with sincere sympathy. She was friends with his mom, and she was well aware he and Cas were best friends.

“Oh, Dean, honey. Cas’ uncle called first thing and had his records transferred. Didn’t he tell you they were moving?”

Dean heard what Ms. Mills said, but she must’ve been mistaken. Cas hadn’t said anything about moving. They’d been together on Friday night. There’s no way he’d keep something that huge from him. He wouldn’t just take off and not say anything. No! Dean felt himself backing away from Ms. Mills’ desk, and somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he could hear her calling his name, but all he could think about was the fact that Cas was gone. Cas had left him. Cas had left him alone, and he hadn’t even told him he was leaving. Cas had left without even saying goodbye. Dean turned when his back hit the glass door of the office, and he ran.

It wasn’t until he heard Alastair’s voice that Dean even realized he was outside. He didn’t remember leaving the building, or running out to the trees, but all of a sudden he was overly conscious of the position he was in.

“Where’s your little pansy-ass tagalong?” Alastair sneered in his nasally voice that almost made Dean want to vomit. Gordon, always the quiet one who just went along with anything Alastair said, just stood there with his arms crossed, staring daggers in Dean’s direction.

With considerably more fortitude than he actually felt, Dean glared at Alastair and spat back. “Don’t fucking talk about Cas like that!”

“Ooooh, someone’s feisty when they’re on their own. When your faggot friend was with you, you just ignored us.”

Dean thought back to how many times Alastair and his slimy friends had called out nasty names to him and Cas as they walked the halls or sat outside to eat their lunch. It seemed as long as he had Cas by his side, he was able to shrug them off. That feeling of solidarity and interconnection kept him from rising to the bait. The sneer on Alistair’s face was proof that they could sense it… that Dean would be different without Cas by his side. Now that he was alone, he was an easier target, too. Dean felt cold fingers inching their way down his spine. At this moment he realized that Cas’ absence meant more than just heartbreak. He wasn’t just going to miss his friend, he was going to be vulnerable. His life was going to be different in almost every way. As the full impact of Cas’ departure sank into Dean’s bones, all of the fight deflated right out of him and he sank to his knees in defeat.

“Just fuck off, Alastair. I’m not in the mood for your crap, okay.”

“You think we’re just gonna walk away when you’re all by yourself out here – little cuddly boy-toy nowhere to be seen?”

The sound of approaching footsteps and rustling in the trees had both Gordon and Alastair jumping back. Obviously not wanting to be caught harassing anyone, or ditching out of class, they took off running. It was a reprieve, but it would be short lived. They’d be back. Dean knew it like he knew the sun would come up tomorrow. They’d never leave him alone. The knowledge only added to his misery.

Dean looked up to see a skinny girl with a mop of shocking red hair approach slowly. She was wearing a blue bomber jacket and a Gryffindor scarf, which would have made Dean smile if he hadn’t been shaking so badly.

“Hey, are you okay?” the unknown girl asked. “Those guys didn’t appear too friendly, and you look pretty shook up.”

Dean turned in surprise as the girl dropped down unceremoniously beside him and looked him straight in the eyes. She had kindness written all over her face, and somehow Dean knew right away she was someone he could trust. Some people just had that aura, and this girl definitely had it. Cas would’ve told him that. He could feel tears welling again thinking about Cas. He was a mess, and he knew it.

“I’m not great,” Dean replied hesitantly. “It’s been a rough day so far, and those guys didn’t help, no.”

The girl covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry. That sucks! I’m Charlie, by the way. This is my first day here, so it hasn’t been exactly been perfecto either, but I’m sure it’s been a slice compared to yours. I just came out here to get some air after lunch, but I think I lost track of the bells and now I fairly sure I’m ditching afternoon class. So, if you wanna go get a Coke and a big plate of fries somewhere instead, I’d totally be up for that?”

Dean smiled at Charlie’s infectious babbling. Yeah, he could use a distraction, and he was pretty sure he was gonna like this girl. He nodded his agreement, pulled himself up and led the way off the school grounds to a diner he knew nearby that had the best fries in Lawrence.

Dean had spilled everything to Charlie that day, and over the following days and weeks she’d become his rock. Dean was miserable, and everything around him was falling apart. At school he could barely focus, and Alastair and his cronies were making the most of it by hurling insults and pulling hurtful pranks. He’d had his locker painted on and his bike tires slashed already. In his current mood, it was getting more and more difficult to just let it go.

At home, he spent all his time locked in his room. Dean knew his parents and Sam were worried, but he just didn’t have the energy to deal with them. They would ask him if he was okay and he would lie and say he was fine, but he knew they didn’t believe him. The only one who could keep him sane was Charlie. She was the only person he could open up to. She was the only one who knew that whenever he tried to call Cas and got his voicemail he would start imagining all the possible scenarios of what could have caused him to just leave, and the panic attacks would start.

Charlie could calmly talk him down. Somehow she instinctively knew how to break down his walls and get inside. He could count on her, and he loved her for it.

Charlie opened up to him too. Dean learned that when Charlie’s parents died in an accident when she was 12, she was bounced from foster home to foster home, living in some of the most deplorable conditions and situations Dean could imagine. On that first day when Dean met her, it was her first week at Hailey’s, her foster mom, whom she adored. She was the oldest child there, and Charlie loved having the younger kids around to dote on. Hailey was wonderful and hadn’t even batted an eye when Charlie had come out to her as a lesbian a few weeks after being there. Turned out, Hailey was bisexual and dating one of the female teachers at Dean and Charlie’s school.

Having another gay friend was also new to Dean. Having someone other than just Cas to talk to about those feelings was something Dean wasn’t used to. One particularly difficult day a few weeks after Cas left, Dean and Charlie were sitting on Dean’s bed and Dean was mindlessly strumming on his guitar. Charlie was checking her Tumblr on Dean’s laptop when she looked up.

“Have you considered coming out to your family?”

Dean stopped playing and stared at Charlie as if she were an alien species with three eyes. “Why would I do that?”

“Because they would have a better understanding of why you’re so upset that Cas left. Maybe they could help you more.” Charlie shuffled over on the bed so she could rub her hands up and down Dean’s arms, knowing the touch would ground him and stop him from freaking out as much while she spoke. “Dean, they love you. Why not give them reason to understand you more. Let them in.”

Dean shook his head. No way! He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t give his parents another reason to worry.

“I can’t, Charlie. Cas and I decided a long time ago that we couldn’t come out until college. I don’t need my parents worrying about what’s gonna happen to me at school or whether I’m okay. Besides, I’m pretty sure my mom and Sammy would be fine with it, but I’m never quite sure with my dad, ya know. Ex-military, old-fashioned family values. I have to wait. That’s just the way it has to be. Besides, without Cas, there’s no point anyway.”

Dean slumped back down on the bed, setting his guitar aside and waiting for the disappointment he knew was coming from his best friend. Charlie was all about being out and proud.

Charlie didn’t scold him though. She pulled him into a hug and stroked his hair. She held him tight and waited until she was sure he was ready and then she pulled back and spoke quietly.

“Dean, you will come out when you’re ready. And when you do, I will be right beside you holding your hand.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile. He may have lost Cas, but he had gained Charlie, and he was truly thankful every day for her friendship.

Time made some things better and some things worse. Dean still missed Cas every day, but as he became accustomed to day to day life without him, it got easier. Charlie helped, and the panic attacks lessened. Alastair and Gordon on the other hand, didn’t let up. Their taunting became more frequent, and Dean was at his breaking point.

One spring afternoon, as the school year was coming to a close, Dean and Charlie strolled out of the side doors of the school to the parking lot. Now that Dean was 16, his dad had started letting him drive his baby, his prized ’67 Impala, and Dean loved cruising over to the middle school to pick up Sam and then dropping Charlie back at Hailey’s after school. Driving was a highlight of his day, and it took his mind off so many other things. He wished he could do it more often.

As they walked over, they could see Alastair and Gordon leaning against the sleek black car. Dean saw red. He passed his backpack to Charlie and took off at a run, thinking of nothing other than getting the idiot thugs off of his dad’s baby. He could hear Charlie call out to him, but he didn’t care.

Dean barrelled right into Alastair, shoving him off the Impala, right into the school wall. “You stay the fuck away from my dad’s car, you dick!”

Gordon didn’t waste any time grabbing Dean off of Alastair and landing a well-aimed punch right to the side of Dean’s face. Dean’s head recoiled from the blow, but he recovered quickly, retaliating with a hit to Gordon’s stomach that was hard enough that he doubled over and was at least momentarily out of commission. Alastair turned away from the wall and grabbed Dean by the arms, pushing him backwards towards the bricks while twisting one arm behind Dean’s back. “You’re mine, faggot!” was all Dean heard, as his body hit the wall and he heard his arm snap behind him. He cried out just as Ms. Mills rounded the corner with Principal Singer.

Charlie accompanied Dean and his parents to the hospital to have his arm set. After talking to Mr. Singer, it was decided that for his part in the fight, Dean would get detention after school for the rest of the week and the other boys would get a two-week suspension. Charlie was able to give a full account of what happened, but even though he was provoked, Dean still started the fight.

Charlie stayed that night to binge watch Indiana Jones movies and eat pizza. Dean knew his best friend would stand by him no matter what. They still had to deal with a lot of crap out of Alastair and his friends over the remaining three years of high school, but because they stuck together, they made it through.

Cas glanced between Dean and Charlie on the pile of blankets and pillows in Dean’s dorm room and smiled.

“Charlie, I’m so thankful you happened upon Dean that day after I left. He really needed someone like you.”

Charlie smiled. “I needed him, too, so it worked out pretty perfectly if I may say so myself.”

Dean took each of their hands. “Now I have you both. I’m the luckiest guy around.”


	6. Heaven and Hell

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Cas woke Saturday morning to a sense of anticipation for the day ahead.  He and Dean planned to spend the day together – something they hadn’t done since they were in high school.  After their pizza night, they’d invited Charlie, but she’d declined, saying the boys needed some time to “get to know each other again.” As much as Cas enjoyed his new friend’s company, he was secretly glad. 

The thought of spending an entire day alone with Dean filled him with a sense of excitement like he hadn’t had in years. They were heading to the mall first, which would normally have Cas scribbling lists of which stores he needed to go to and what he needed to buy, but knowing Dean would be with him seemed to settle Cas enough that his usual coping mechanisms didn’t seem necessary.  Cas stretched his sleep-stiff muscles and thought about what to wear.  Since he knew Dean wouldn’t care, Cas decided he would follow his own internal cues once he got to his closet. He smiled to himself. That’s how it _should_ be.  
  
After showering and shaving, Cas stood in front of his dresser in his orange boxer briefs and closed his eyes.  He didn’t see himself in a skirt and leggings, but he wasn’t entirely comfortable alienating his feminine side.  He reached for his bottom drawer and pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans that he’d worn once before and then to the middle one for his new Muse t-shirt that he hadn’t had the chance to wear yet.  He loved the bright colours of the “2 nd Law” album cover on the black background, so he finished off the outfit with bright pink and black chucks.   
  
Appraising himself in the mirror, Cas decided something was missing, so he reached into the little glass bowl he kept on top of the dresser and pulled out a clip with a rainbow dragonfly, which he clipped in his hair just above his ear, and then rimmed his eyes lightly with black eyeliner.  Satisfied with his appearance, he grabbed his backpack with his phone, wallet and keys and jogged down to the lobby to wait for Dean.  
  
When Dean came down the same set of stairs a few moments later, Cas did a double take.  To say that Dean was hot had always been an understatement, but he had really grown into his looks.  In a pair of well-fitted black jeans, a soft grey t-shirt and his leather jacket, Dean was positively gorgeous. Cas knew no amount of gay conversion therapy in the world could take away the feelings he had for this young man.

 “You look amazing, Dean,” Cas couldn’t help but say as Dean came to stand directly in front of him.  
  
Dean’s blush was something Cas still loved to see, starting at the neckline of his t-shirt and rising upwards, highlighting the freckles on his cheeks and nose.  Dean never could take a compliment without getting self-conscious. When flustered, he was positively adorable.  
  
Dean leaned over and gave Cas a quick peck on the cheek.  “You look beautiful, Cas.”  
  
Cas smiled.  Dean always made him feel like he was loved.  He reached down and grabbed Dean’s hand.  
  
“Ready to go?  The shuttle for the mall leaves in ten minutes.”  
  
Dean nodded as they turned and started walking to the bus stop. As expected, the mall was busy.  It was a Saturday morning in September.  There were families with whining children and university students absorbed in their phones. The concourse was crowded, some people wandering aimlessly while others hurried along.  Cas wasn’t a fan of crowds, but he held tight to Dean’s hand and they manoeuvered together through the masses.  
  
Most people were fairly oblivious to the two boys holding hands.  When the occasional stare lasted a little too long, or a dirty look came their way, they held their heads high and did their best to ignore it.  Cas now knew Dean had been bullied and called nasty names in the past, so he was proud of his friend for being able to stand tall in the face of negativity.   This was their new normal.  Nothing of the past was going to touch them here.  Cas was going to make sure of it.  
  
Cas was heading for the Food Court when something caught Dean’s eye and he veered Cas over to a small, vintage-look clothing store.  Cas shrugged, the items in the display window looked okay, nothing really stood out, but there wasn’t anything hideous either.  He wasn’t sure what exactly they were doing there.  As they entered the store, Cas immediately saw what had piqued Dean’s interest.  On one of the very first racks to their right were a row of skirts – flowy and purple, with black lace.  Not exactly the same as the one Cas had worn on that night in the trees three years ago, but similar enough that Cas could see why Dean had noticed it.  
  
Dean grabbed the first hanger off the rack and checked the size.  Seemingly satisfied that it would work, he pulled Cas to the fitting rooms and handed it to Cas with eyes beseeching him to try it on.  
  
There was no way Cas could say no to the pleading look on Dean’s face, so he took the skirt and opened the fitting room door.  At the last second, he glanced around to check if anyone was watching them, and grasped Dean by the arm to drag him in as well.  Dean laughed as he was pulled in.  
  
“This room is seriously not big enough for two grown men, Cas.”  
  
“Well, you’re the one whose bright idea it was for me to put this on,” Cas giggled, trying to wrangle the skirt over his jeans while trying to avoid jabbing himself in the arm with a hook or a hanger.  
  
When he eventually managed to get the skirt settled somewhere near his waist, he looked up at Dean and tried to hold out his arms in a bit of a “what do you think” pose.  
  
Dean looked like he was a million miles away – and maybe he was.  Cas stood perfectly still while Dean tentatively breached the minimal distance between them and settled his hands on Cas’ hips.  Cas could barely breathe.  It had been less than a week since he and Dean come back into each other’s lives, and other than Dean’s quick peck on his cheek this morning they’d done nothing but hold hands.  At this moment, Cas felt that might be all about to change.   
  
He could feel his pulse quicken and his hands becoming clammy.  Dean’s breath was warm on his lips, just inches from his own.  The memory of how those lips tasted was thrilling. Cas’ heart beat faster as he thought of how those lips moved, how Dean’s head would tilt to the perfect angle, how those lips would part to allow him entrance, and how Dean would nip gently as they parted just to start the entire dance over again. 

Dean kissed like he played music, like it came from his soul, and Cas loved it.  As teenagers they would spend hours kissing and touching and experimenting with each other’s bodies.  They’d learned and loved and it had all been so beautiful and in this very minute, Cas wanted all of that back so very badly.  
  
Dean’s lips touched his, just a flutter and his eyes closed.  It was like coming home.  Cas sighed and melted into it, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck, instantly deepening the kiss.  Dean slid his hands up Cas’ back, just under the hem of his t-shirt, and Cas instantly froze.  It was like someone dumped ice water over his head and this frozen blackness plummeted through his veins.  
  
“Hey, Cas.  Cas, baby, did I do something wrong?”  
  
Dean was talking to him.  He needed to snap out of it.  He was shaking his head.  He’d ruined it.  He could feel the tears falling.  He needed to get out of this room.  He pulled off the skirt and balled it into the corner, unlatched the door, and ran.  
  
He could hear Dean’s footsteps chasing behind him but he didn’t stop until he was outside the mall doors.  He needed fresh air, not the recycled kind that was burning his lungs inside.  He needed open space and less people.  He needed his body to stop reacting automatically to the conditioning.  
  
“Cas!” Dean called out, breathing heavily from running.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to push you.”  
  
Cas turned around and pulled Dean into his arms.  “You did nothing wrong, Dean.  You hear me?  Nothing.  This is all me.”

Dean held him, pulling apart just enough to look him in the eye. “What is it?” he asked gently.

Cas swallowed and worked to keep his voice steady. “There is more I need to tell you about what happened…after.”   
  
Dean seemed to relax in Cas’ embrace, hopefully settled somewhat by his words.  Cas grasped the sides of Dean’s head in his hands and pulled out of their hug to kiss Dean on the forehead, then the chin, the cheek and the lips.  
  
“Let’s go to Wichita Gardens like we planned, okay?” Cas asked. “The things I need to tell you are private, and I don’t want to get into it here. Besides, I’ve had enough of the crowds for one day and it would be nice to go somewhere peaceful to talk.”  
  
“Anything, Cas,” Dean replied with an accepting smile.  “Anything you want.”  
  
Wichita Gardens truly was beautiful.  Cas and Dean strolled aimlessly hand in hand through acres of flowers of every kind arranged with foliage and trees in stunning displays, dancing fountains, statues and art installations.  Cas could spend hours just absorbing the beauty of their surroundings.  Next time they came here, he fully intended to bring his sketch pad and do just that.  They walked through the butterfly atrium and laughed like children when they both ended up covered in an assortment of colourful winged creatures.  Dean even commented that the ones in Cas’ hair looked like they belonged there since he often wore them on his hair clips.  
  
When Cas felt strong enough, he led Dean to a shady spot under a pretty Japanese maple tree.  Right beside them was a little koi pond with a wooden arched bridge.  It was a little slice of paradise that he hoped would keep them both grounded while he explained the horror story of the first month of his life after leaving Lawrence.  
  
Cas wasn’t sure he could face Dean, but he needed his strength and the reassurance that he would still be there when the tale was told, so when Dean sat against the trunk of the tree, Cas sat in front of him with his back to Dean’s chest and looped Dean’s arms around his waist.  
  
“When I froze in the fitting room at the store,” he began, “it wasn’t because of anything you did wrong Dean. I know in my heart there is nothing wrong with who I am as a gay man. But, the methods that were used to try and change me aren’t easily forgotten.”  
  
Cas felt Dean’s arms tighten around his midsection as he spoke.  It made him feel less alone.  Even though he couldn’t see Dean’s eyes, he knew there would be no judgement in them. Dean continued to hold him close while he continued his story, so he told it all. He told Dean everything.

As he recounted events for Dean, he could see them clearly in his mind. He remembered that there was no “Mr.” Crowley. It was just Crowley.

When he’d awakened that first day, Crowley had led him down a dark hallway that seemed worlds away from even his uncle’s barely habitable home.  In the center, there was a long table with a dozen or so metal folding chairs, several of which were occupied by teenagers silently ladling what appeared to be some kind of soup into their mouths and staring up at Cas like he had two heads. 

There was one girl and the rest were boys, all just a little older or younger than Cas – a total of five.  As Cas glanced around the room, he noticed there were also a rusty stove and refrigerator, and the rest of an outfitted, old, worn kitchen.  
  
When Crowley cleared his throat, the occupants of the room snapped to attention.  “Boys and our token girl, I’d like you to meet Castiel.  He’ll be here with us for a little while, so I’d like you to make him feel as welcome as possible.”  
  
Pointing to each of the teens at the table one at time, starting with the lone girl, Crowley introduced each by name.  “Castiel, I’d like you to meet Meg, Inias, Aaron, Kevin, and Samandriel, although I believe he prefers to be addressed as Alfie.  
  
“Oh no!  Not another stupid damn angel name!” the girl, Meg, growled out between slurps of soup, apparently not as quite as afraid of Crowley as the others.  “Doesn’t anyone but me and Kevin have halfway fucking normal parents?”  
  
“Language, Megan!” Crowley snapped.  
  
“If any of us had normal parents, we wouldn’t be here,” Aaron mumbled under his breath.  
  
“You are here because your parents want you to have the opportunity to mend your wrongful ways by following the pathway of our Lord so that you will ascend to Heaven.”  
  
Cas watched somewhat awestruck as all five teenagers lowered their heads and nodded, answering in a practiced response.  ”Yes, Crowley.”  
  
It didn’t take Cas more than the first day of activities at Stairway to Heaven for him to figure out exactly why he was there. This was his uncle’s way of getting him away from Dean and attempting to cure him of his gayness at the same time.  What he didn’t know was where “here” was, exactly.  When he asked the other kids, they professed not to know either.  Each of them had a story in which they were drugged, beaten, or somehow made to be unconscious when they arrived in secrecy.  The walls were cement.  There were no windows – nothing to give Cas any kind of clue if he was still in Kansas; hell, if he was even still in America.  
  
After the first day, Cas found that Stairway to Heaven also came with a routine that did not alter.  Nothing was different from day to day.  As Cas didn’t actually know what day it was when he arrived, he didn’t know what day it was from one day to the next.  There were no clocks, and he didn’t have his watch or his phone.  Time didn’t matter at Stairway to Heaven; all that mattered was following Crowley’s word and God’s scripture to the letter, and doing well in therapy.  
  
Mornings consisted of a breakfast of oatmeal and juice and then individual therapy.  They were provided lunch of sandwiches and fruit, and then an afternoon of group therapy and silent Bible study.  Dinner was soup or a casserole and then in the evening, more silent Bible study before bed.  Rinse. Repeat.   
  
The very first morning, Cas sat silently beside Inias as he attempted to choke down the tasteless wallpaper paste in his bowl as it stuck thick and gelatinous to his tongue.  He tried to wash it down with orange juice, but the watery substance was almost worse so he just pushed the two aside.  Feeling anxious about the unknowns ahead, Cas unconsciously tapped the toe of the worn gym shoe he’d found in his suitcase.  His uncle hadn’t packed anything Cas would consider personal, but the necessities he’d need were available to him.  
  
Apparently Crowley called them from the dreary kitchen for individual therapy one at a time.  While they were waiting, one of the other staff, a pinchy looking woman named Naomi with stern features and a matching attitude, came to terrify them about AIDS and other STDs.  After thirty minutes of Naomi’s droning on about how AIDs affects every gay man and woman eventually, promiscuity or safe sex aside, Kevin came back in from his individual session looking white as a ghost and slid into a seat at the table beside Meg.  Meg reached over and began to rub Kevin’s shoulder blades in small circles, whispering to him just softly enough that Naomi wouldn’t hear from the front of the room.  
  
Cas couldn’t help but wonder what could possibly cause Kevin to come back looking so freaked out.  The anxiety around his own thirty minutes ramped up and distracted him even further.  When Naomi started pulling out full colour photographs of diseased penises and vaginas and passing them around, Cas thought he might actually be sick.  By then, Inias had come back from his session, not looking a great deal better than Kevin, and Meg had taken his place.  By the time Meg came back, mostly looking like she was ready to pound her fist into the first person that got into her way, Naomi had switched to showing a movie.  The film was clearly an amateur production. A black man, in robes and a collar, preached about the wrath of God coming in the form of AIDS, to all those who practiced homosexuality.  Cas didn’t know whether to be angry or terrified.  What kind of place was this?  What the hell were they trying to teach these kids?  Were they really taken in by all this crap?  
  
The last thirty minute time slot before lunch belonged to Cas.  When Alfie came back in the room shaking like a leaf and signaled Cas to go to Crowley’s office, Cas stood with as much false bravado as he could muster and put one foot in front of the other to get to the door.  
  
Crowley’s office was larger than Cas had been anticipating.  Cas had expected a typical desk with a chair on either side and maybe a shelf of books; what he walked into looked more like a science lab combined with a small classroom.  There was a large mahogany desk, where Crowley was seated, as Cas stood in the doorway, glancing around the room at the assortment of equipment.  To the side of the desk were a gurney and an overstuffed leather chair with straps and buckles attached to the arms and bolted to the floor.  Against the wall beside those was a small white chest freezer with an assortment of metal bowls haphazardly piled on top of it.  Across the room was an old TV with a DVD player under it on rolling metal stand.  There was a projector of some kind and some metal shelving holding an array of terrifying looking implements.  And those were just the things Cas could identify.   
  
“Don’t just stand there.  Take a seat.  I’m not going to bite you.”  
  
Something in Crowley’s tone sent shivers of panic up Cas’ arms, and he had to work to stop his shoulders from visibly shuddering as he made his way over to the leather chair – the only other one in the room besides the one in which Crowley was seated.  
  
“Do you know why you’re here?”   
  
Cas nodded.  There was no point in fighting it.  From what he’d seen already, going against the grain wasn’t the quick way out of here.  With no windows, no visible doors, and no idea where he was, escape didn’t seem likely. Rescue seemed even less likely. With that in mind, Cas resigned himself to his fate and waited silently for what would come next.

“Alright, so since you realize that your uncle has put you under my care?”

Cas nodded minimally.

“I am now responsible for your salvation,” Crowley said firmly. “I take this very seriously. As should you.”

 Again, Cas nodded. It was disturbing how evil this man sounded when he spoke of salvation.

“Can I assume,” he continued, “that I have your cooperation and that you want to become heterosexual?”

Cas nodded again, wincing inside and apologizing to Dean silently as he did so.  
  
Crowley rose out of his chair and began to pace in front of Cas, hands behind his back, almost like the prosecuting attorneys you see in those wildly popular television crime dramas.  
  
“Sorry, Castiel.  I’m going to need you to use the power of speech for this one. Answer me boy. Will cooperate in all the exercises?”

Cas nodded again, hating himself for it while still aware that he had no choice.

“I will work to make you straight as an arrow,” the evil man purred. “And that is what you want, right? To be cleansed of this sinful desire?”

He nodded, the agreements coming easier now.

“Speak boy. Say yes.”

“Yes,” he said timidly.

“Sir. Call me sir… and say it like a man.”  
  
“Yes, Crowley.  Sir,” Castiel stuttered, finding it difficult to agree verbally when he really didn’t.  Lying had never been Cas’ strong suit. It was worse, too, because the very presence of Crowley was so abhorrent.  
  
“Wonderful.  Let’s get started then, shall we?”  Crowley said, rubbing his hands together with a bit too much glee.  Cas swore there was a gleam of excitement in the man’s eyes that caused an almost unearthly red glow, and it chilled him to his core. 

Crowley strolled over to the DVD player and pressed the play button.  “We’re just going to watch some short little romance films.  They’re quite lovely really – well some of them are.  You’ll see which ones I mean quite quickly, I expect.  Just relax, Castiel.  I’m not going to hurt you.  As long as you’re cooperative, I think you and I will get along just fine.”  
  
As the DVD started, Crowley returned to Cas’ chair and fastened the leather straps around Cas’ wrists with his palms facing upwards.  Cas could feel his heartbeat skyrocket as he was immobilized. A sickly terror washed over him as he glanced back up to the television on its rickety cart. On the screen a young boy and girl were running down a beach holding hands at sunset.   
  
As Cas watched the screen, Crowley placed a warm smooth stone in the palm of each of Cas’ hands.  The stones were scented with some kind of aromatic oil.  Cas could make out something citrusy, but nothing specific.  The smell was pleasant and the warmth soothing.  The scene on the television changed to a high school dance with young male/female couples dancing slowly to a song Cas recognised as something popular but he didn’t know the name of.  Within a few minutes, the scene changed again, this time to a group of teens at a restaurant, coupled off again, the boys with their arms around the girls.  Cas was certainly sensing a theme.  
  
The next time the scene changed, the screen became dark and the music suddenly had an unpleasant screech that hadn’t been there before.  Two boys were leaning against a locker in a school hallway clearly having an intimate conversation, one boy with a finger trailing down the other’s arm.  Cas thought it looked a lot like something he would’ve loved to do with Dean, but just as he began to smile, the warm stone in his hand was removed and a jagged piece of ice was shoved in its place.  The picture on the tv switched to two young men dancing in a pulsing gay club, something Cas had never experienced, and the ice started to sting his hand as the cold chilled his sensitive skin.  The screeching was more pronounced, and the image on the screen darker when it switched again, this time to two teen boys in an alley, walking hand in hand, glancing around often in fear of their surroundings.  Cas’ hand burned from the ice and his body chilled to the bone from the combination of negative hits to his senses.  Suddenly, the cold was replaced with the blessedly warm heat from the stone again as the image brightened, the music became melodic, and the first couple from the beach returned, sharing a chaste kiss as the waves washed gently just beyond their perfect heterosexual moment.  
  
Cas breathed a sigh of relief at the change, and then instantly berated his body for betraying him.   
  
Crowley unbuckled the restraints and grinned.  “See that wasn’t so bad.  See how easy things are if you behave?  I believe it’s lunch time.  You and I will meet again tomorrow, dear boy.  I’m quite looking forward to it.”  
  
Days blended together after the first one. Naomi’s lectures, punctuated by videos and graphic photographs, were repetitive and often left such a sour taste in Cas’ mouth he felt physically ill afterwards.  Evenings of silent Bible study were spent lost in thoughts of Dean.  Cas’ only escape from the emotional and physical torture were the memories of love and laughter that seemed be growing more distant by the day.  Warm summer days by the creek with Dean may as well have been five worlds away. Sometimes he missed Dean so much it was a physical ache deep inside.  Not knowing if he would ever see his love again was tearing him apart almost as much as the endless days of sameness he was enduring.  
  
There was nothing Cas dreaded more than his thirty minutes every day in Crowley’s “office.”  Since that first day, treatments had become something Cas’ struggled with internally and he worried it was a fight he was losing.  His body reacted in ways he couldn’t control, and it terrified him.  
  
What had started as images of young couples holding hands, had now become graphic video of both gay and straight sex, and not just the romantic, loving sex Cas had imagined he and Dean would eventually have, but sex with positions and implements that Cas’ young innocent mind hadn’t even considered.  When the heterosexual couples and their loving touches filled the screen, Crowley would turn on relaxing spa music and set the chair to vibrate in areas that Cas didn’t want stimulated.  His frustration was palpable.  The images were lovely, but he knew what Crowley was trying to do.  
  
When the raw, uncensored, gay sex was shown, Cas couldn’t stamp down his arousal.  He fought to control his body so that Crowley wouldn’t see, but, of course, the man always noticed.  It started with copper heating coils placed in his hands, causing a burn so much stronger and longer lasting than the ice had been.  Over time, as the images became more intense, so did the treatment.  Cas groaned in pain as Crowley placed needles in his fingernail beds while a man got fucked in the ass with a large black dildo on-screen, and when the electric shocks started during an intense BDSM scene with a paddle in a dimly lit club, Cas actually lost consciousness.  The treatment would always stop as suddenly as it started, with the music changing to something melodic and restful, the pain being replaced by something soothing, and the video switching to a man and a woman having straight, vanilla sex.  Cas wasn’t sure how much more he could take.  His body always shook with intense relief, and he hated it and he hated himself for being thankful for the change.  
  
Conversation with the others was sporadic at best.  Cas could get bits and pieces out of Kevin and Aaron at mealtime, mostly around Bible verses and occasional chit chat about what they planned to do at school once they left Stairway to Heaven.  Meg just bitched and complained, about the food, the staff, the sheets, whatever she could find to kick up a stink over, peppered with creative cuss words.  She was always kind to the others though, like the self-appointed parent of the group.  If someone was noticeably more upset than usual, Meg was the one with a whispered word or a rub on the shoulder.  Cas wondered often about what made her tick.  She was an enigma of contradictions.  
  
Inias was quiet and reflective but would join the conversation occasionally if something piqued his interest.  Alfie never spoke at all.  Cas hadn’t heard him say a solitary word since he’d arrived.  He appeared nervous all the time, looking around as if something or someone was ready to jump out at him from around the next corner.  It made Cas question what must have happened to him to make him so jumpy and frightened.  He was afraid of the answer though, so he kept his curiosity to himself.  Cas knew everyone at Stairway to Heaven had a story, just as he did, and he hoped that theirs were no worse than his, but he suspected, at least in the case of Alfie and maybe Meg, that wasn’t the case.  
  
After a couple of weeks of counting days, Alfie was all of a sudden absent from breakfast.  No one seemed to question it, so Cas didn’t either – mostly because he didn’t want to think too hard about the possible answers.  They were down to five for a few days, until they were joined by Jo, a tough, mouthy blonde girl.  I didn’t take more than 48 hours before she became quiet and withdrawn, much like everyone else.  Cas hated it.  This placed zapped the life and soul out of everyone who entered.  He feared for what would be left of him when he finally got to leave.  
  
Cas often thought that if he just knew how long he’d be kept here, it would be easier to survive. But he didn’t. How long would this be his life? Then, Crowley praised him one morning during their individual therapy session. “You’ve done wonderfully, Castiel.  I’m impressed with how well you’ve handled yourself.  I don’t think you’ll need our services for much longer.”  
  
Cas just nodded, unwilling to give away how hopeful he was.  He didn’t speak to Crowley unless he was directly asked a question. 

Nothing seemed different about the routine that night.  Cas went to bed as normal only to wake the following morning groggy and confused, desperately trying to gain his bearings, once again in an unfamiliar bed in unfamiliar surroundings.  
  
He struggled to clear his head, fighting for clarity.  A gentle, deep voice soothed his confused mind and as he came back to the present, he realized he was pushing against Dean’s strong embrace.  He’d become so engrossed in the telling of his story, he’d lost himself for a moment, but Dean was there, holding him still, even after hearing all of the horrible things that had happened at Stairway to Heaven.  Dean was still holding him close, stroking his hair, whispering to him.   
  
“Cas.  I’m here, baby.  It’s okay.  I’m so, so sorry you had to go through that.  If I ever come face to face with that Crowley I swear I’ll…”   
  
“Dean,” Cas interrupted,  “It’s over.  I got through it and I’ve worked through the worst of it.  I’ve learned coping skills that got me through high school, and with Gabe and Anna’s help I no longer have any ties with my uncle, financially or otherwise.  I love that you want to protect me. But I don’t want to focus on my past. I want to live in the present and think of my future – with you.”  
  
Cas turned so he and Dean were facing each other.  He took both of Dean’s hands in his and looked into the eyes of the boy he loved for the first time since they’d sat down.  
  
“I woke up at a boarding school in England with my brother Gabriel in my dorm room with me.  The one and only good thing Uncle Zachariah ever did was call him and tell him where I’d be.  I don’t know if he expected I’d keep quiet about what happened at Crowley’s and not say anything to Gabriel, but once Gabe found out, he was livid.  Anna had just turned eighteen, so once he was sure I was settled, he picked her up, and they never saw my uncle again.  Uncle Zachariah had covered my expenses until I was finished school, and then Gabe and Anna helped me apply for loans and work on my application for the art program at Wichita State.”  
  
Dean looked stunned.  Cas knew it was a lot to take in. As he waited for his friend to absorb everything, Cas looked around at their little haven here in the garden. He knew gay conversion therapy didn’t actually work. Most of the world knew that. But his uncle had believed in it and had turned him over to it like a lamb to slaughter. Its aftereffects would be with him for a long time.

Cas knew that Dean would be with him to help him work through it. And for that he was grateful. He also knew that the things that had been done to him were illegal, in the United States anyway. If that’s where he’d been held, he could probably turn his uncle in for being part of it. But that, again, was just bringing the ugly past into his beautiful present. He was much happier picturing a future with Dean, rediscovering each other and making a happy life for them.  His body and mind were resolved to this and by the time Dean spoke again, Cas found himself calm and ready to talk more.  
  
“What made you decide on WSU?” Dean asked curiously  
  
Cas looked down sheepishly before answering.  “I knew I needed to find you eventually, to see if there was any chance that after all this time you might still want me, that you’d forgive me for just leaving so suddenly. I just didn’t expect to find you so easily,” he chuckled. “It’s almost like it was meant to be.”

Dean pulled him close again, clearly agreeing with the sentiment.

I considered KU, but I didn’t want to be right in Lawrence.  Wichita seemed like a good compromise.  I was taking a chance anyway.  We never talked about college.  I didn’t even know if you’d still be in Kansas.  The last thing I expected was to find you right here.”  
  
Dean leaned in and kissed Cas gently on the lips.  “There’s nothing to forgive, Cas.  And, I’m so glad you found me.  Finally, I feel like we’re both heading in the direction we should have been all along.”  



	7. Free to be You and Me

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As September drew to a close, university life for Dean had become somewhat routine.  Weekdays were primarily spent in class or rehearsals, with evenings and weekends filled with homework, practice, friends, and Cas – mostly Cas.  It wasn’t unusual to find Dean carding his calloused fingers through Cas’ paint-splattered hair while Cas tried to focus on his latest masterpiece.  Or, Dean would be hunched over his guitar on Cas’ bed, frustrated with a new song, while Cas distractedly pressed his talented fingers into the sore, cramped muscles in Dean’s back.  
  
They often spent time with Charlie, occasionally accompanied by some of her computer nerd friends or a girl she was dating.  Evenings with the bubbly redhead were always enjoyable, and Dean was thrilled that Cas had come to value her friendship almost as much as Dean did. He loved watching the two of them together.  Cas’ look of confusion when Charlie rambled on about some tv or movie reference he didn’t understand was the cutest thing ever, not that he would ever tell him that.  
  
Dean was still patient with Cas’ intimacy issues.  He knew Cas hated it, but Dean also understood none of it was Cas’ fault and Cas wanted to get past it to the point that he was getting really frustrated.  What Dean hadn’t told Cas is that he’d spoken to one of his professors who was a music therapist.  Pam had recommended a book that she thought Dean should read.  It had been fascinating – all about how things like art and music could be used to overcome things that the mind was blocking unintentionally.  Dean planned to do a little more research, but as he and Cas were art and music students, he thought it might be something that they could use to their advantage.  Either way, after all this time, there was no way Dean was letting Cas go even if the most intimate thing they ever did again was kiss. He was in it for the long haul; he just hoped Cas knew it.  
  
Every second Tuesday they helped Charlie with the Spectrum group.  Mostly Dean just helped Charlie set up and hung around and visited with a few people.  It was fairly common knowledge he and Cas were a couple, but beyond that, he hadn’t participated in any real way.  
  
Cas, on the other hand, had felt kids like himself who identified as genderqueer, genderfluid, or gender non-binary, were under-represented in the group.  As the group was primarily for GLBTQ+ youth, which Cas was as well, he felt the issue of gender needed to be tackled as a separate piece under the same umbrella.  Dean and Charlie were both so proud so see Cas form a Gender Queer Awareness group.  After everything he’d been through, he was taking his negative experiences to do something positive.  
  
Dean leaned against the wall in the corner and watched Cas with his group at the last meeting of the month.  His boyfriend, yes, he felt comfortable calling him that again now, looked amazing as always in a blue skirt and black leggings, covered by his favourite yellow sweater.  His hair was just poking out of the beanie perched on his head, but Dean knew that underneath, Cas’ favourite bumblebee hairclip was clipped just above his ear.  Cas looked comfortable and confident, and Dean couldn’t help but smile at the shine in the beautiful blue eyes of the boy he loved.  
  
Charlie wandered over and slung her arm around his waist.  “I can’t get over how strong he is.  You know, a lot of that can be attributed to you, right?”  
  
Dean flipped his face around to stare at his friend.  “To me?  What did I do?”  
  
“You’ve been there for him, every step of the way.  A lesser man would’ve run like the wind.  You’ve got plenty of your own shit to handle, Dean, but you haven’t wavered in your support for Cas.  I’m watching him come full circle.  Maybe it’s your turn.  New start, remember?  The real Dean Winchester?  Have you thought about coming out to your family?”   
  
“I don’t know, Charlie.”  
  
“What are you so scared of, Dean?  They love you.  They’ve always supported you.  I don’t think you’re giving them enough credit.  Why don’t you talk it over with Cas and see what he thinks?”  
  
Cas chose that moment to join them.  He smiled at Charlie and kissed Dean chastely.  “Hello Dean, Charlie.  Talk to me about what?”  
  
Dean cringed, knowing Charlie would spill the beans, and he wasn’t wrong.  
  
“Dean and I were discussing whether he should come out to his mom and dad.”  
  
Dean could feel the love and support radiating when Cas looked at him.  “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Dean.  Your parents have always supported you.  I can’t see them having an issue with you being gay.”  
  
Dean outwardly cringed.  He loved Cas, but being gay wasn’t something he ever said out loud.  He wasn’t sure why, likely because of all of the slurs and insults he heard from Alistair and Gordon in high school.  It’s not that he had a problem with his sexual orientation; it was just so difficult for him to actually say the words.   
  
Cas wrapped his arms around Dean.  “You know I would do it with you, right?”  
  
Dean nodded.  Cas would support him in the same way he had been there for Cas.  He could do it.  He promised himself when he came to WSU he was doing it as the real Dean Winchester, and the real Dean Winchester was gay.  Maybe it was time to let his parents and his brother know that.  
  
“Okay,” Dean replied with only a small amount of nervous hesitation.  “Let’s go back to my room and Skype my parents.”  
  
Charlie’s face broke out in a giant smile, and she practically jumped into his arms.  “I’m so proud of you, Dean.”  
  
“Okay, okay.  Cool it, Red.  If this goes south, it’s all on you.”  
  
“I’m not worried,” Charlie replied with a wink and her trademark Vulcan salute as she started walking off to the other side of the room.  “I have a group to run.  You two have fun storming the castle.  Peace out, bitches!”

Dean was a bundle of nerves as he and Cas sat on Dean’s bed with the laptop open, Dean’s finger hovering over the enter key to activate the call.  He’d already texted Sam to warn his family to expect a Skype call, and they were excited to hear from him, especially when he’d mentioned he had a surprise.  He could tell Cas was nervous too, even though he was trying to hide it for Dean’s sake.  Now all he had to do was suck it up and get it over with.  He kept Charlie’s mantra as a running commentary in his head.  She was sure his parents would be supportive, and really he had no reason to believe otherwise.  This was his last hurdle to being true to himself, and he needed to do that to be there for Cas.  
  
Cas leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.  “Just do it, Dean.  I’m right here.”  
  
With a quick squeeze to Cas’ thigh to show how much he appreciated the support, he touched the keyboard and the ringing sound flooded his ears.  No turning back now.  
  
Suddenly his mom’s face was smiling back at him, filling the laptop screen with the kind of affection only she could deliver.  In the tiny box in the corner, Dean could see himself only as Cas had shuffled out of view to give him time to greet his family.  
  
“Hi Mom,” he greeted, with as much normalcy as he could muster. “How’s things at home?”  
  
“Dean!  It’s so great to see you.  This Skype is so much nicer than just talking on the phone.  Your Dad and Sam are here too.”  
  
Dean smiled as both his dad waved from behind his mom and his not-so-little brother shoved his face in the frame and shook his mop of hair at him.  
  
“Hey Dad.  Hiya, Sammy!  It’s great to see you guys too.”  
  
Mary wrestled her boys out of the way so they were all sitting squished together with her in the front ready to talk to Dean.  
  
“How’s school, honey?”  
  
“Everything’s good, Mom.  My classes are great – lots of work but I enjoy it.”  
  
Mary smiled and nodded.  “That’s great.  What about friends?  Are you still spending time with Charlie?  Have you met lots of new people?”  
  
Dean’s heart started to hammer in his chest as he recognised his opening.  He glanced over to Cas, who reached for his hand and gave it a quick squeeze in solidarity and agreement.  
  
“Uh, yeah.  Charlie says hello and uh, that’s actually kind of my reason for calling.  I said I had a surprise for you.  Here’s the first part.”  
  
Dean tugged Cas’ hand until he was beside him and he could clearly see them both in the tiny window in the corner.  Knowing his family could now see them, he looked up to see their reaction.  
  
Mary’s face split into a wide smile, her cheeks bright.  “Castiel!  Is that really you?”  
  
Cas spoke politely, as was his nature. “Hi, Mrs. Winchester, Mr. Winchester, Sam.  It’s nice to see you all again.”  
  
“Oh, Castiel.  You look so grown up.  Please, you know to call us John and Mary.  It’s so good to see you again and so nice to see you and Dean back together.  You were always such close friends.”  
  
Once again, Dean saw the perfect opportunity and took it before he had the chance to change his mind, hoping to hell Charlie was right.  
  
“Um, about that,” Dean mumbled, sudden nerves affecting his confidence.  “Cas and I, um, we’re not, well…uh, well we are but we’re also, shit….”  
  
“Honey, can I interrupt here?” Mary asked carefully.  
  
Dean looked up, confused and a bit irritated.  He was having such a hard time saying what he needed to say and his mom really wasn’t helping by interrupting him, but he nodded all the same.  
  
“Dean, if I’m wrong here I really apologise, but I don’t think I am.  Are you trying to tell me that you and Cas are more than just friends?”  Mary took John’s hand, and he smiled his support.  He was clearly on board with what she was saying.  “Dean, if you’re trying to tell us that you’re gay and that Cas is your boyfriend, then you have nothing to be nervous about.  We’ve been waiting for you to tell us that since you were about 13.”  
  
Dean’s jaw would’ve hit the floor if it could unhinge that far.  He was flabbergasted.  They knew!  They’d known the entire time.  
  
“You knew?”  
  
“Oh, honey” Mary answered.  “Yes, we knew.  You two weren’t as careful as you thought you were.  And we’re not completely oblivious, either.”  
  
“I knew too.” Sam tossed into the conversation, laughing, his shaggy mop of hair flopping into his eyes.  “Saw you two kissing once through a crack in your bedroom door.  Scarred me for weeks.  You know what that shit can do to an eleven year old?”  
  
Dean was stunned.  He peeked over at Cas, who looked just as shocked.  “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Dean asked his mom.  
  
“I figured you’d tell us when you were ready.  We knew what was going on when Cas left, but you never really said anything.  It was so hard on you, and then all the bullying started at school and the anxiety attacks, but even then, you were so stoic, you just handled it on your own, or with Charlie.  You didn’t want to let us in.  It was your choice, Dean.  It had to be on your terms.”  
  
“I’m so sorry, Mom.  I just didn’t know how to tell you and Dad.  And Sammy was so young then.  I could barely deal with it myself.”  
  
“Oh, baby, don’t be sorry.  You got through it.  I’m glad you had Charlie to help you, and look at you now.  You’re in college, you’re living your dream.  And now Cas is back in your life, and you’re being honest about who you are.  We’re so proud of you, son.  We love you so very much.”  
  
Dean could feel the tears starting to well in his eyes.  He knew Cas could see them too because he was gripping his hand tighter, offering his love and support.  
  
“I love you too Mom, Dad.  Hey, and you too, Sammy.”  
  
Mary wiped her eyes on the back of her shirt sleeve.  “Now look what a sappy conversation this turned out to be.  We should be celebrating!  How about you bring Cas back home with you for Thanksgiving break?  We can all catch up and have a big family coming out party.  I’ll bake your favourite pies.  You can play for us.  It’ll be great.  What do you say, Cas?”  
  
Cas had the most beautiful smile on his face.  Dean knew how much it meant to him to be included in Dean’s family.  
  
“I would love that Mrs….um, Mary.  Thank you for inviting me.”  
  
“Castiel Novak, you have always been family.  You’re welcome in this house any time.”  
  
It didn’t take long to wrap up the conversation after that.  Dean talked to Sam for a few minutes about Sam’s latest video game conquest, and Mary wanted a few more details on their classes and the Spectrum group.  After a promise to Skype again soon and text and call often, they finally managed to end the call with a final “I love you, Mom.”  
  
Dean slammed the laptop shut and it bounced on the bed with the force of it, but Dean didn’t care.  He could feel the muscles in his cheeks starting to ache from grinning.  The sense of freedom he felt was all consuming – like nothing he’d ever experienced.  He didn’t know whether he wanted to grab Cas and dance around the room, or open his tiny dorm window and shout from the rooftops that Dean Winchester was out and proud to everyone in his life that mattered.  Cas was smiling too, and Dean could tell that he shared what Dean was feeling.  Dean took hold of both of Cas’ hands and pulled his boyfriend towards him into a quick, excited kiss.  
  
“I can’t believe that just happened!  I’ve avoided anything that would give my mom and dad any clue about my being gay for so long, and they knew.  They knew this whole time!  I can’t stop smiling.”  
  
Cas squeezed Dean’s hands and Dean could feel the love and support through the connection they’d always shared.  “I’m so proud of you, Dean,” Cas whispered before joining their lips once again.  
  
Without letting their lips part, Dean lowered their bodies to the mattress, letting go of Cas just long enough to swipe the laptop to the side and out of the way.  Two six foot young men on a twin bed didn’t much leave room for anything else.  With nothing else to distract him, Dean eagerly went back to kissing his boyfriend to within an inch of his life.  
  
Dean had been so careful not to push Cas into anything he wasn’t physically ready for that Cas had actually been the one getting frustrated.  They both wanted more.  It was easy to get carried away kissing and caressing, re-learning each other’s bodies and wanting to discover the changes that three years of growing up had brought, but ultimately, Cas would freeze up and then get upset at himself for being unable to do something he so desperately wanted.   Dean, on the other hand, was infinitely patient, celebrating every small push forward like it was Apollo 11.  
  
This time, Dean forged ahead.  He was too wound up to be cautious, and he had a plan for the next time they found themselves in this exact situation.  Ultimately, there was no time like the present.  When Cas slipped his warm palms around Dean’s hips and then tentatively skimmed them up his sides, Dean reached down and pulled his t-shirt up over his head.  He immediately glanced back to meet Cas’ eyes.  He could see the desire, and so far no signs of fear.  
  
Cas nodded, so Dean grabbed the bottom hem of Cas’ sweater and lifted.  It took a bit of creative wrangling to get the oversize woolly garment away from Cas’ lithe body, but once it was tossed to the side, the feel of skin against skin contact was worth every second.  They hadn’t been this intimate since they were 15, and Dean could already feel the blood rushing south as he tried to calm himself.  The last thing he wanted to do was freak Cas out.  They both wanted this – needed this.   
  
Dean took a deep breath and pushed back a little in an attempt to get himself back under control.  He needed to explain his thoughts to Cas, and he had to have a clear head to do it.  Cas’ eyes squinted causing little crinkles at the corners and his head tilted to the side.  
  
“What’s wrong, Dean?   
  
“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong.” Dean breathed out quickly, cradling Cas’ cheek with his palm.  “I just have an idea, and I wanted to explain it to you – see what you thought about it.”  
  
“Uh, right now?” Cas questioned.  
  
Dean flushed.  “Well, it does sort of have to do with what we’re, uh, doing right now.”  
  
Cas seemed to perk up at that. “I’m listening,” he said with interest.  
  
Dean took Cas’ hand and threaded their fingers together.  He’d put a lot of thought into this plan, so he hoped Cas would be on board.  He was pretty confident they both wanted to be able to move forward sexually, but a little part of him was still worried Cas would be upset he’d researched all this behind his back.  
  
“I’ve been doing some reading.  Uh, specifically about music and art therapy for those suffering from PTSD.  I,” Dean knew he was probably squeezing Cas’ hand kinda hard with nervous jitters, “thought, that what’s happening to you, the triggers, is kinda like that, right?”  
  
Cas nodded, his interest clearly piqued. “Yes, I suppose it is.  What did you find out?”  
  
Dean let out a relieved breath and continued.  “Music and art are both commonly used in the treatment of many things.  The idea is that creativity can raise a person’s awareness of their physical and mental states and build resistance and a sense of safety.  When we push too far sexually, it triggers your brain into feeling the pain you felt when you were with Crowley.  All we need to do replace that mental block with something that feels safe and happy.  I think we can use music and art, the two things we both love, to do that.”  
  
Cas’ eyes sparkled electric blue with excitement, and Dean could tell before he even opened his mouth that he was 100 percent on board with the idea.  What Dean wasn’t expecting was almost 6 feet of messy-haired, adorable boyfriend to pounce on him, apparently ready to show him exactly how on board with the plan he actually was.  
  
Dean laughed at Cas’ enthusiasm.  “You’re so damn cute when you’re happy.”  He couldn’t help but pepper Cas’ face in loud smacking kisses before hopping off the bed to fetch both his guitar and some supplies he’d picked up at a recent trip to the mall.  
  
Cas watched Dean from the bed intently.  In the weeks since he and Dean had reconnected, his boyfriend had been nothing short of amazing.  With Dean at his side, and friends, classes and causes to focus on, Cas had felt himself becoming less reliant on his lists and routines and more able to relax and enjoy college life.  Dean was a constant source of strength, and here he was again, surprising Cas with something he’d come up with for the sole purpose of helping him work through his past.  Even with his own crosses to bear, Dean always put Cas’ needs before his own.  Cas sometimes wondered what he could have possibly done to deserve so much.  
  
Cas smiled fondly as Dean turned back towards him with his guitar in hand and a mysterious brown paper bag clutched to his chest.  
  
“What’s in the bag?” he wondered out loud.  
  
Dean hopped onto the bed, setting his guitar down carefully and dumping the contents of the bag between them as they sat cross-legged opposite each other.   
  
“Art supplies, actually, but I wanted to get something a little more suited for what we’re gonna use them for.”  
  
Cas took a closer look at the assortment of items Dean had purchased, first picking up a small plastic bottle of what appeared to be red paint.  Cas couldn’t help the grin that broke out when he read the label. _Edible Body Paint._ Dean had bought three colours – red, blue, and green.  There were also two soft-bristled brushes, of differing sizes, and a package of what Cas assumed were some kind of felt markers that were safe for skin.  Those too were flavoured and washable, he found out after reading the back of the box.  Cas was impressed.  
  
“Where did you even find this stuff?”  
  
“There’s a little store near the mall,” Dean answered, appearing quite proud of himself.  “It’s one of those ‘adult only’ type places.  It was a little embarrassing at first, but there was this guy working there, Benny, and he was pretty helpful.  I described what I was thinking, and he said they had exactly what I needed.”  Dean rubbed he hand on the back of his neck looking a little flustered.  “We should go there sometime, Cas.  You should see all the stuff they have.  It was pretty educational.”  
  
“I imagine it was.  I’m not sure I’m quite ready for that yet, but I promise, we’ll get there,” Cas replied genuinely.  He really hoped he would be able to keep that promise.  
  
Cas stared down at his bare chest and then farther to his skirt and leggings and made a quick decision.  Before he could talk himself out of it, he grasped the waistband of both garments at once, being sure to avoid the hem of his briefs so they stayed put, and shimmied them down, straightening his legs long enough to wiggle out of them and toss them off the side of the bed.  He felt exposed in nothing but his underwear, but safe in Dean’s presence.  He knew Dean would never take advantage of his moment of bravery.   
  
At Dean’s questioning look, Cas explained, “This feels intimate, and I want you to know how much I trust you.”  
  
Dean’s eyes were deep green with affection, and something else, a sense of wonder maybe. It was difficult for Cas to tell what his boyfriend was thinking.  With Dean’s gaze unyielding, Cas considered the fact that he should feel at least a little self-conscious, but all he felt was revered and cherished.    
  
Without ever breaking eye contact, Dean managed to slip out of his own jeans, leaving him similarly clad in boxer shorts, and the spell was finally broken when Cas could no longer stifle a giggle.  
  
“I feel like a teenager again,” Cas whispered.  
  
“Well, technically we still are I suppose.  Eighteen still has a ‘teen’ on the end.  We’ve just grown up a little since the last time we sat like this.  Relax, Cas.  We’ve been here before.  Just close your eyes and think back to my old bedroom when we were 15.”  
  
Cas did exactly that.  He could picture it.  The Metallica and Zep posters on the walls, the bookshelf scattered with books, DVDs, and loose papers.  Dean’s desk with the laptop, tv, unfinished homework, and framed photos of John, Mary, Sam, and Cas.  Clothes scattered all over the floor – somewhere close to the laundry hamper but not quite in it.  The bed, with Xbox controllers tossed on one side, the cords stretched precariously to the desktop, just waiting for one of them to trip over them.  Dean and Cas perched in the centre, sitting cross-legged across from each other just like they were now, Dean with his guitar in his lap ready to play.  The memories were so vivid; Cas could almost smell Dean’s old Axe body spray and the typical teenage boy dirty laundry smell that he’d associated with the safety of Dean’s room when he wanted to escape his overbearing uncle.     
  
Dean kept speaking. “We’re at my house alone, sitting on my bed after school, and I’m gonna play you a song.”  
  
Dean pulled the guitar into his lap, adjusted the knobs and strummed a few random chords to get the tuning right and then began to play and sing softly.  Cas recognised the song right away.  It was a regular on both of their iPhone playlists.

[ ](http://s521.photobucket.com/user/paula2809/media/Image3.jpeg.html)

_I, I walk on water  
high above all beneath.  
Fly before I could tell you  
oh that I, I walk on water.  
I walk on water.  
Life, in such a hurry,  
thrive as long as you can.  
  
Goodbye to all my worries  
Oh ‘cause I, I walk on water.  
  
Put your trust in me, put your trust in me  
Put your trust in me, put your trust in me._

_I walk on water, I feel stronger  
I feel stronger than I used to.  
  
My feet don’t touch the ground  
I don’t worry. I don’t worry any longer.  
_  
Cas had opened his eyes after the first two lines, wanting to watch the emotions flood his boyfriend’s face as the lyrics washed over him.  Watching Dean sing was similar to taking a pencil to a sketchbook – the creation just as skilled and beautiful.  Once Dean strummed the last chord and placed the guitar back down on the floor beside the bed, Cas couldn’t help but pull Dean into his arms.   
  
“Thank you, Dean,” he murmured softly as his lips brushed over a freckled shoulder.  “Taking us back into the past like that has already taken so much anxiety away.  Please tell me how to go farther.  Help me get closer.  I want you so badly right now.”  
  
Cas could feel Dean’s body react to his words.  The shiver of anticipation may have started within Dean, but it radiated outwards and Cas could feel his desire ramping up as well.   
  
Dean reluctantly pulled back and held Cas’ forearms tightly as he found his voice.  “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this Cas.  It seems like I’ve waited a lifetime to feel you close to me again, but I want you to know that if this doesn’t work, if you need to stop, we’ll stop, okay, baby?  Just say the word, and we’ll put on the brakes.”  
  
Cas nodded, and that appeared to be the go-ahead Dean needed.  He picked up the paint brushes and handed them to Cas.  
  
“You’re the artist – the one with the vision.  I’m just the canvas.  I’m gonna lay back and take off my shorts.  You can paint whatever you want, wherever you want.  Then, you can do whatever your muse tells you, alright?  Go where the picture takes you.  I’ll help if you need me to.  I’m here for you in any way you need me to be.  Remember, we’re a team – always together, through everything.  Just like we used to be.”  
  
With that, Dean leaned over and pressed the play button on his iPhone dock so quiet alternative music filled the room and then rolled back and pulled off his boxers in one tug.  He lay back on the bed, placed his hands behind his head, spread his legs just enough to make room for Cas to get between them if he needed to, and closed his eyes.  
  
Cas took in the sight of Dean naked and his breath hitched.  He felt a slight tug of panic as the conditioning kicked in, but he pushed it down with a deep breath.  This was Dean.  He could do this.  His eyes roamed the expanse of tanned, freckled skin, the toned young muscle, the semi-hard cock from their ongoing arousal.  Needing to look away, Cas concentrated on the supplies in front of him.  Finding a cheap plastic paint palette, he poured a small amount of each of the three colours onto it and dipped his pinky into each to taste.   
  
“These all taste like chocolate,” he exclaimed with a surprised lilt to his voice.  
  
“Course they do,” Dean mumbled in reply.  “What were you expecting?  Brussels sprouts?”  
  
Cas chuckled.  “Mmm.  This has serious potential.”  
  
After dipping the wide-bristled paintbrush first into the green, Cas shuffled up between Dean’s legs, mindful not to look down, and started with a broad stroke down the centre of Dean’s chest.  
  
Dean sighed as the brush touched his skin, and Cas was thrilled with the reaction.  He wanted more of that.  He dipped the brush again and painted a line connecting Dean’s nipples.  Dean actually arched off the bed with a soft moan causing Cas to jump back in surprise.   
  
“Sorry,” Dean rushed out; clearly worried he’d already scared Cas off.  
  
Cas had had been startled at Dean’s intense reaction, but even more surprised at his lack of fear.  If anything, all it had done was ramp up his desire.  
  
“Don’t be sorry for enjoying this, Dean.  I want you all in, too,” Cas replied with sincerity before leaning over and cupping Dean’s face between his palms.  He leaned in and pressed their mouths together in a heated kiss, separating Dean’s lips insistently with his tongue.  Dean groaned at the onslaught, obviously unused to this new, confident version of Cas that had suddenly made an appearance.  Cas didn’t know how long it would last, but he was gonna go with it for as long as it did.  
  
Cas was in no hurry as he kissed his way to the side of Dean’s mouth and then down his jaw, pausing just briefly to circle each of Dean’s hardened nipples with the brush and causing yet another beautiful sound from his boyfriend.  He continued, peppering butterfly kisses to Dean’s freckled shoulders before rising to plant another kiss on Dean’s plump lips.  
  
As an artist, the unfinished work still called out to him, so Cas drew himself back to take hold of the other paintbrush and switch to the blue paint.  
  
Cas became lost in the process – watching the colours appear on Dean’s flawless skin, listening to the breathtaking sounds Dean was no longer trying to stifle, watching the changes of Dean’s captivating body as he became more and more aroused.  The colours began to blend together from the original green cross, a combination of the body paint and markers, and Cas continued to work, occasionally stopping to lean down and kiss Dean’s closed eyes or run his hands through Dean’s sweat-spiked hair.   
  
There was a catharsis in every brush stroke or swipe of a pen.  Cas could feel the anxiety leave his body to be replaced by a sense of peace and a building want and desire.  He was surprised to realize he was hard and leaking as lay down his brush after the final stroke and he’d been gently rolling his hips into Dean’s thigh to relieve some pressure in his groin.   
  
“Cas?” Dean groaned, suddenly aware of the lack of contact, clearly missing it and left wanting as much as Cas was.  “Please.”  
  
“Oh, Dean.  Yes.  I just want to show you first.”  
  
Cas stretched over to the nightstand to grab his phone and quickly snapped a picture of the stunning young man splayed out in front of him and turned the camera to face Dean.  
  
“Hey, open your eyes!”  
  
Dean did as Cas asked.  “Holy fuck, Cas!”  He lifted a finger to touch the screen in awe.  “It looks like stained glass – like a window in a church.  How did you create that much colour and light just by painting on my chest?”  
  
Cas looked down at his creation and then back up into Dean’s eyes.  He took the phone away and lay it down beside them.   
  
“I started to paint, and that’s what came out.  I got lost in it – lost in you.  I’ve always been told what to believe.  The church, my uncle, the camp, school, no one ever gave me the free will to consider what I wanted for my own life.  Now here you are, giving me your trust, your body, your soul.  I choose to worship you, Dean Winchester.  In every possible way.  I choose you.”  
  
Dean pushed himself into a sitting position and wasted no time carding his fingers into Cas’ mop of dark hair, sliding the pads of his thumbs down his boyfriend’s cheekbones and holding him firmly as he spoke.  
  
“I love you, Castiel Novak.  I have never stopped loving you.  I’m yours.  Always.”  
  
With that, Cas closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Dean’s middle and kissing him with a passion that surprised even him.  When their lips parted and their tongues met, Cas pressed his body against Dean’s, pushing him back down against the soft mattress, using his lips and teeth to cover the distance down to the artwork on Dean’s chest.  
  
He gently took one hardening nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, suckling off the chocolate paint, the explosion of taste enhancing the euphoric feeling of desire building in his nerve endings.  Dean was arching off the bed as Cas laved attention across his chest, pressing his fingers into Dean’s hip bones to counteract the movements while he himself was circling his own hips against Dean’s thigh. 

They were both painfully hard.  Cas hadn’t felt this kind of magic in three years, and he was drunk with it, lost in the sensations coursing through his body.  He pulled back long enough to wriggle out of his briefs and climb onto Dean’s thighs.  Both Dean and Cas let out twin gasps as their cocks made contact for the first time.  
  
“Dean,” Cas squeaked, starting to lose control.  “I don’t know what…”  
  
Dean pushed himself up on one elbow and cupped Cas’ cheek with his free hand.  
  
“It’s ok, baby.  I’m here.  I’ve got you.”  He rocked them together gently.  “Do we need to stop?”  
  
Cas shook his head violently.  He needed more.  He needed Dean.  He needed everything but it had been so long, so long since he’d done this, so long since his body had let him feel this rush of euphoria, so long since he’d been this close to…”Dean, don’t stop.”  
  
“It’s okay. Not gonna stop.  No way.”  
  
Dean swiped his thumb over the tip of his cock and then wrapped his palm as best as he could around them both.  It was a little awkward one-handed, but it worked.  He found a rhythm, and Cas watched as their swollen, purple tips slipped and slid against each other in and out of Dean’s fist.  He couldn’t look away.  He could feel his insides tightening and his body ready to take off.  He could barely breathe.  
  
Dean was panting, a glaze of sweat at his hairline.  “So close, Cas.  God, you’re so beautiful.”  
  
Suddenly, Cas’ world exploded with shards of colour as his orgasm punched out of him, spurting over the painted mess on Dean’s chest and stomach.  Dean was right behind him, calling out Cas’ name, adding his seed to the sticky mess of come and chocolate covering their lower bodies and hands.  
  
They tipped to the side, unable to maintain a sitting position any longer but still wanting to keep physical contact.  Cas grabbed his discarded underwear to wipe up the stickiest part of the mess, but they were both going to need a shower sooner rather than later.  
  
Cas glanced down at Dean’s chest and couldn’t help but chuckle.  “I’m glad I took a picture.”  
  
Dean smiled.  “Gonna submit it as a project for one of your art classes?”  
  
“No way!” Cas replied indignantly.  “No one gets to see this beautiful body except me.”  
  
“Ooh, a possessive streak.  I like,” Dean smirked.  “Seriously though.  Are you okay?”  
  
“Dean Winchester, I am perfect!  For the first time in my life, I’m free to be me.  I’m at college studying what I love,  I can make my own decisions, I can dress and act how I choose, and best of all, I have you.  You accept and love me for who I am and stand by me no matter what – and to top it all off, you’re sexy as hell and I’m pretty sure, thanks to you, we are gonna have a healthy and extremely prolific sex life, beginning with me blowing you in the shower.  What’s not to be okay about?”  
  
“I think I’ve created a monster.  Not that I’m complaining.  Life is looking pretty damn good for me too, Cas,” Dean pondered with a smile.  “Now what was that about a blow job?  Race you to the shower!”  
  
Cas was pretty sure all of the body art supplies crashed to the floor in his rush to get up and join his boyfriend, but he didn’t really care.  He had much more pressing things to think about; besides, they had all the time in the world to clean it up later.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Dean plays for Cas is an excerpt from [Walk on Water by Kaleo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmi1gxoPDjg)


End file.
